


It's Time To Start Wanting What You Have

by blythechild



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Altered Mental States, Developing Relationship, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the murder of his ex-wife, Hotch begins to experience night terrors that threaten to unravel his career and home life. In denial about seeking help, he finds an ally in Reid who eventually becomes the fulcrum who could either save him or destroy him.</p><p>This is a Hotch/Reid fic.</p><p>This story contains sexual content and should not be read by those under the age of 18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shot to the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This story was the result of a randomizer meme which challenged the writer to pick a random quotation for a title, a random Flickr image as inspiration, and a random Wikipedia page as character content. While this story has drifted very far from those 3 initial influences, it's safe to say that it wouldn't have existed without the ridiculous meme in the first place.
> 
> This is my first Hotch/Reid story, so play nice, everyone. 
> 
> This is a work of fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over any of the characters contained herein. It was created as a personal entertainment.

As he felt the bullet rip through his chest, Hotch saw the face of his son. Jack was so small, so young… he had survived losing one parent, but to be orphaned now would permanently alter the trajectory of his life. The unfairness of it felt like acid in Hotch’s mouth and, though he could taste blood there as well, he swallowed it down as if to deny his inevitable end.

When he hit the water, he was shocked back into reality. Strong arms circled his chest and squeezed causing him to gasp and take in a mouthful of lake water with his final breath. The lake closed in over him and his invisible strangler, colder and darker than he could have imagined. It wasn’t long before they had sunk beyond a depth where up was discernible from down and he felt an instinctual, claustrophobic panic set in that started him struggling again. His gun was gone - not that it would have been effective more than once underwater. He clawed at the arms around him. One band across his chest eased away and he felt something solid crack the side of his head - once, and again… The pain was shocking and he sucked in to brace against it only to realize that he had sucked in more lake water, expelling the last of his air in the process. 

It wouldn’t be long now. He thrashed again with everything that he had left. The murkiness around him began to take on a crimson hue. 

_Am I bleeding?_

His chest ached as he felt every fibrous millimeter of his lungs search desperately for oxygen. Then his chest expanded, no longer compressed by arms dragging him downwards. 

_That’s better… not so bad now…_

Hands grabbed him again and he instantly scratched and thrashed against them. He felt his nails dig in as he tried to climb the body that trapped him. 

_Maybe we’re just below the surface… air… air!_

The hands fought him off while still trying to hold him still - it was infuriating. But they were _holding_ , not squeezing or smashing or choking. He tried to open his eyes but all he saw was dark red everywhere. He closed his eyes and kicked out against his keeper one last time. A fleeting image of hands trapping his arms to his sides while he screamed and struggled bloomed behind his eyes and he suddenly gave in. _Those hands_ had never hurt him… you’re okay, the voice had said, and, in time, he had believed it. He wanted those hands back, and that was the last thing he thought before everything turned black.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He blinked and it hurt. There was an instant when the possibility of unconsciousness was still an option, but something inside him made a different choice. He felt as if he was nearing the surface of himself: he began to hear rhythmic beeping and a soft hiss close to his face. His nerves kicked in and he went from a soft numbness to a complete awareness of how his body was oriented in space. He felt a clamp over his left index finger, sharps were embedded into his skin at the inner elbow and wrists, a tube blew cool air up his nostrils, and something was confining the movement of his skin across his chest…

He tried his eyes again - they still hurt - but blinking eased it a little. The room was dim and blue and indistinct beyond the incredible brightness of his white bed. The bed was white, the sheets were white, and he was white beneath a white gown. He turned his head and stretched the skin on his chest. Pain lanced across him and he drew a sharp intake of breath against it.

_Haven’t I done this before? But there was water last time, not air…_

“You’re not supposed to move.”

Beyond the brightness of his bed, a thin figure leaned forward out of the gloom placing a hand on the side rail of his bed. Shadows deepened the hollows beneath his eyes and the sharpness of his cheekbones into a ghoulish caricature. Hotch closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“Reid.”

“Stay still, okay? Are you in pain? I can call for a nurse…”

“No, its fine.” He opened his eyes and tried not to move too much. “I was confused… didn’t know where I was… what happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Reid was cautious.

Hotch let his mind float backwards… Jack wants pancakes for breakfast… Garcia covers her eyes during the gory reveal of a case briefing… Reid is looking at him through the men’s room mirror as he splashes cold water across his face… an endless meeting with Strauss in his office… Haley’s funeral - can’t cry, don’t cry… Jack won’t go to sleep without his bedtime story but his hands are shaking too badly to hold the book… other hands - thinner and longer - take the book from him and walk past him into Jack’s room…

“I don’t know. It’s all jumbled up.” Hotch shook his head.

“Ken Stussman - the UNSUB in our last case - shot you.” Reid waited.

Hotch looked at him more closely. The light in the room was unflattering but even so, Reid looked terrible. His face was pale and drawn, and his hands and face were littered with small cuts. One of his hands rested on the bed rail while the other was clenched into a tight, white-knuckled fist against his knee.

“You were charging Stussman on the dock behind his house. Even after he shot you, you didn’t stop.” Reid continued. “He grabbed you and you both fell into the lake.”

“Oh.” Hotch nodded once. “Did we get him?”

Reid’s neutral expression melted into a mixed look of incredulity and anger. His fist tightened further. “He’s dead.”

“Oh. Did he do that to you?” Hotch nodded towards Reid.

“No, you did, after I killed Stussman and tried to pull you from the lake.”

Hotch’s chest ached again though he hadn’t moved at all. He swallowed hard and focused on Reid’s injuries, cataloguing them for some unknown reason.

“I did? Reid… I’m sorry… I didn’t know…”

“You nearly killed us both.”

“I’m sorry…”

Reid interrupted him. “Why weren’t you wearing your vest?”

“What?”

“Your Kevlar… why weren’t you wearing it?” Reid’s hand tightened on the bed rail as his voice became clipped and urgent. “Why didn’t you wait for Morgan and Rossi to arrive? They were only 5 minutes behind us… Stussman didn’t even know that we were there until you broke cover and ran out into the open for him.”

“I-I… I don’t know.”

Reid rose from the bedside chair and leaned down over Hotch, his features lit with something inexpressible. “You’ve never made an unconsidered move in your entire life, Aaron. This amnesia thing is temporary. Once you recover you’ll have to answer some hard questions about this, so don’t think that you’ll be able to hide from your real motivations for too long. The others might not see it, but _you know_ that you can’t hide it from me.”

Hotch flashed to a different view of Reid’s face hovering over him. Reid’s expression was softer, more caring… _You’re okay, I’ve got you… deep breaths, Aaron, deep breaths…_ Hotch closed his eyes and breathed in; he imagined that he could smell the fabric softener from Reid’s shirt.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s always been the problem hasn’t it?” Reid snapped and then bowed his head to settle himself. “Listen… Morgan is really angry about this. He’s going to go to Strauss, and I think that Rossi’s going to back him on it in spite of his loyalty to you. I won’t say anything about what I know, but… they’re not wrong, Aaron. If they have to force you to get help, then maybe that’s what has to be done to save you.”

Hotch heard Reid’s voice crack and knew what was coming next. He tried to pin the younger agent in place with a stony stare.

“I thought that I was doing the right thing by you… I thought that I could fix you somehow…”

Reid began shaking his head and backed away from Hotch’s bed. Hotch’s heart beat out a frantic tattoo that was echoed by the heart monitor next to him.

“Reid…”

“It was stupid… I’ve never been able to fix anyone…”

“Reid!” Hotch reached out and then immediately retracted his hand as his chest constricted with pain.

“I made it worse.” Reid looked at Hotch for a moment and then quickly away. “Like slapping a Band-Aid on a chest wound… I just wrapped you up so that the world couldn’t see anything and hoped that you healed on your own. But - instead - you nearly orphaned your son and killed me… I can’t do this anymore.”

Another memory flashed into view: Hotch, shaking and terrified, his face buried in the hollow between Reid’s shoulder and neck. Reid holds him and whispers something that he can’t hear. Hotch’s hands hesitantly rise up Reid’s back, clutching him tighter and tighter…

The heart monitor went into overdrive and Hotch gasped as he tried to breathe deeply without stretching his chest. A nurse hurried in, all soft, rubber-soled efficiency and covered Reid’s exit while she interrogated her newly conscious patient. Hotch sighed in frustration and laid back into the bed allowing the nurse to order him around.

_Dammit, Reid… come back…_


	2. It's Not What You Thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting in this chapter, the timeline starts to jump around. Focus, people, focus!

Rossi left Hotch waiting at the hospital entrance while he went to retrieve his car. Under strict orders from the hospital staff and too weak to make an issue of it, Hotch sat humiliated in an aging wheelchair waiting on the only person that he could rely on to do him a favor. Besides Reid, that is… A ridiculous red sports car pulled up in front of him and Rossi bounded out.

“A Maserati, Dave? You really are a cliché some times…”

“What?” Rossi shrugged playfully. “The Jag’s in the shop. C’mon, get in, old man.”

Rossi opened the passenger door. “You are far too tall. I might have to strap you to the roof instead…”

“Hilarious.”

Rossi climbed into the driver’s seat and set off at a frightening velocity.

“Easy there, Dave, I’m not interested in a round trip back to that hospital room…”

Rossi smiled but ignored the jibe. They drove in silence for a while until Rossi brought up the obvious.

“I’m kinda surprised that Reid didn’t pick you up…”

Hotch smirked in spite of himself. Rossi was a good friend but he didn’t pry. The question sounded leading, but if Hotch chose not to answer, his friend would be fine with that. It would have been naïve of either of them to think that they couldn’t glean what they wanted from each other using something other than conversation.

“He’s angry and disappointed with me. Who can blame him? I almost got him killed.”

“You really think that’s it, Aaron?”

“You have a different opinion?”

“If it was just disappointment, it would be easy to fix… easy to get over.” Rossi mused while weaving in and out of traffic. “Have you ever thought about how he sees you?”

“No, not really.”

“Remember when Hankel took him? Remember how Reid described you to him?”

“He said that I was a bully.” Hotch sighed. He knew that Reid had only been half-lying when he said it.

“Yeah. You’re tall, handsome, authoritative, athletic… You’re the embodiment of every kid who ever beat the crap out of him, or mocked him as a nerd in college, or slept with the girl he liked and dismissed his feelings as irrelevant.”

“I sense that you’re slow-walking me to a grand point here, Dave…”

“Okay, well, given all of that, he should hate you, or at least be indifferent to you. But he isn’t. That’s because being a bully isn’t all there is to you.”

“Oh good.” Hotch snipped.

“You’ve never been a father substitute to him, like Gideon was, nor have you been a mentor figure despite your seniority. He respects your authority within the group - partially because of your title - but mostly because of the way that you treat others. From day one, you insisted that others afford him the same respect that they gave you, you made them call him ‘Doctor’, and you listen to his opinions often basing your final profile analysis on his findings despite your own extensive analytical skills. Hell, you even taught him to shoot so that he could up his qualification rating… As a result, he instinctually wants to challenge the bully in you while also respecting the upstanding character that you display towards others.” 

“Wow, Dave, you make me sound so deep.”

“Shut up. I’m not done.” Rossi chuckled. “I know that he has been helping you and Jack out somehow. I don’t know the specifics, but I can guess. Reid is a caretaker, with a soft spot for family alliances. He saw you and Jack hurting and he decided to help mend this part of his BAU family, perhaps in lieu of fixing his mother… whatever.”

Rossi made a dismissive gesture that was misinterpreted by another motorist. A brief honking battle ensued and culminated in Rossi shouting something brutal in Italian. Hotch didn’t take his eyes off Rossi and willed him to get on with his insight into Reid’s character. It was all he could do to stop himself from yelling at Rossi to get his attention back. Eventually the other man looked back and started up again.

“Where was I? Ummm… right… Well, no doubt you deferred to him, depended on him… ceded a certain amount of the strength inherent in a bullying, type A personality to him. He saw you with your guard down and it opened up his opinion of you further. He became more of an equal with you…”

“Okay…” Hotch said cautiously.

“But now it’s all come crashing down. You’ll be forced by the Bureau to take a leave and get some help for your problems,” Rossi eyed Hotch briefly as if this had already been decided “and when you return, the dynamic will go back to the way it was before. You won’t defer to him, you won’t see him as strong… you won’t _need_ him anymore.”

Hotch’s mouth went dry. _Surely Reid doesn’t think that…_

“Since the help that he was providing was something that you kept secret, no one will notice the change but him. He might even suspect that you were using him for your own purposes, which will feed into his bully resentment. All of those feelings of equality and empathy will go up like a roman candle; it might even strike him as a greater betrayal than Gideon leaving him…”

Hotch stared at Rossi wordless and internally horrified by the picture that he was painting. 

“Basically, Reid has a very complicated, very volatile relationship with you that you seem to be - if your current expression is any indication - mostly unaware of.”

 _Not entirely unaware…_ , he thought.

“That kid loves you, Aaron, but it’s a hard kind of love, even for someone as emotionally giving as him. And _that_ , my friend,” Rossi hit the steering wheel lightly to emphasize his point, “is why I picked you up at the hospital in my Maserati instead of him in his dinky old Volkswagen. You can thank me later.”

Hotch turned away from his friend and stared blindly out the front windshield. He couldn’t believe that everything Rossi said might be true. Surely Hotch knew Reid better than that… and surely Reid knew _him_ better… After all, Rossi had just guessed at what Reid had done for Hotch. He didn’t know the details. But, if even half of Rossi’s little profile was true, he had a lot to make up for. Hotch scrubbed his face and leaned his head back against the expensive leather headrest. He sighed like a person who was lost without a clue.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BEFORE

Hotch burst into the men’s room without looking and collapsed into a stall just in time to be revisited by his breakfast. His mind went blank as he waited for his stomach to empty and finish its abortive heaving. He took a moment to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow. The side effects of his sleeping pills seemed worse than the nightmares and insomnia. He could go back to his doctor but imagined that any medication would have a similar result. Christ, he just needed some sleep…

He rose from his knees in the stall, brushed his pants and straightened his jacket, then walked out to find Reid at the bank of sinks staring at his reflection in the mirror.

_Dammit!_

Hotch walked to the sinks and began washing his hands and splashing water on his face. He didn’t acknowledge Reid. He felt the younger agent’s eyes on him nonetheless. Hotch stood straight and assessed his reflection as he shook his hands dry.

“You’ve got some… you know… on your tie…” Reid made a brief gesture towards Hotch’s chest.

“Great.” Hotch mumbled and turned the faucet back on. “Why aren’t you in the conference room? There’s a briefing in 5 minutes.”

“Same reason you aren’t, I guess.” Hotch looked up and leveled a stare at Reid that brooked no bullshit - he wasn’t in the mood today. “The call of nature…”

Reid stared back at him, not scared exactly, but waiting to read Hotch’s next move. Hotch lifted one side of his mouth in a small smile and sighed.

“Sorry.”

“S’okay.” Reid shrugged and walked past Hotch heading for the door. With his hand on the handle, he paused and turned back. “Don’t wear that out. I have a spare tie in my desk… take it if you want. It’s black - black goes with everything.”

“Okay.” Hotch felt bewildered. “I will. Thanks, Reid.”

“Sure.” Reid shrugged again and stared at the other man. Hotch could tell that he wanted to ask what was going on, but after a moment Reid just turned and left the men’s room instead. Hotch followed half a minute later, making a brief pit stop at Reid’s desk first.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hotch jolted awake suddenly and upset his paperwork from his lap. Thankfully, almost everyone on the jet was asleep and had missed the fanfare. He rubbed his eyes and then bent down to collect the files. Long hands joined him and piled the papers on the seat next to him.

“Thanks.” Hotch mumbled.

Reid nodded and finished cleaning up. When he was done he took the seat opposite Hotch. Usually full of nervous chatter unless preoccupied by something, Reid was eerily quiet. It unsettled Hotch, and he chafed inwardly as he broke and forced himself to ask a boring question.

“Can’t sleep?”

“I’m not tired.” Reid responded. “But you are - you’re exhausted. Why won’t you let yourself sleep?”

“I was just sleeping a moment ago…”

“No, you weren’t. In the past hour, you’ve dozed into a semi-conscious state 7 times, but as soon as you approach an alpha wave sleep state, you appear to experience hypnagogic hallucinations and shake yourself awake. Your body _wants_ sleep, but you are not allowing it.”

Hotch’s lips thinned as he repressed half a dozen rude responses. Reid cocked an eyebrow at him, which irrationally made Hotch angrier.

“You’re allowed to pry into our personal wellbeing, but we aren’t allowed to do the same to you?”

“You know, it’s a little creepy that you were watching me sleep.”

Reid didn’t rise to the bait. “It might have been _if_ you had actually been sleeping. Which you weren’t. And that circles us back to my pending question: why won’t you let yourself sleep?”

Hotch suppressed a smile. He had to admit that he liked Reid’s soft-shoe, smartass routine, and was always impressed at how effective it was in eliciting information from him.

“Jack’s been having nightmares lately and… I’m afraid that I’m not coping with them well.” He looked away and out the darkened jet window.

“Oh.” Reid said quietly. “It makes sense - it’s been a year.”

 _Since Haley_ , Hotch finished miserably in his head.

“And, the other day… in the men’s room? Sleeping pills?”

Hotch looked back at Reid, and the other man smiled knowingly.

“Most brands are less than effective and, as you have experienced, the side effects can be quite distracting. The best way to ensure natural, restorative sleep is to talk about what’s bothering you.” He quickly added, “Not with me… unless you want to… but… you know, with _someone_ …”

Hotch sighed and let exhaustion push him deeper into his seat. It seemed like too much effort to continue this conversation, let alone talking to a professional about what was keeping him awake. He might have been silent for a long time because when he looked back at Reid, the man was leaning forward in concern, his hands almost brushing Hotch’s knees. Hotch blinked, trying to recall if Reid had asked him anything.

“We’ll be landing soon. Did you bring your car to the airstrip?” 

Hotch nodded.

“Then I’ll drive you home. You’re in no shape to be behind the wheel.”

“But I live in Georgetown. Isn’t that the opposite side of town from your place?”

“In that case, I may have to crash on your couch.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time they reached Hotch’s house it was 2a.m. He had dozed off in the car twice only to rudely awaken himself moments later. He couldn’t have an episode in front of Reid. No matter how helpful and empathetic the man was Hotch just couldn’t bear it. With Jack at his aunt’s house for the evening, he was hoping for a quiet night. And if it were less than a quiet night, at least Jack would be spared the drama for once. As soon as Reid pulled the car up to the house, Hotch realized that he couldn’t politely deny Reid his couch - it was too late and Reid’s place was too far away. The older man sighed and hoped that he could make it through the night in peace.


	3. What Can and Cannot Be Seen

It seems as though the knives come from every direction. They pin him down piercing every sensitive spot, tearing through muscles and tendons, making it impossible to do anything but scream in the darkness. The pain is excruciating - it defies any previous experience that he’s had - and he knows that its about to get worse. The room is dark and damp, and he can feel the lukewarm stickiness of his own blood pooling about him. He knows that he shouldn’t move, he should try to calm his pulse, but he can’t fight the instinct to get free no matter the cost.

A death’s head looms out of the shadows and mocks his efforts. He yells, he demands that he be freed. He’s FBI and what this phantom is doing is a federal offense, he says. He doesn’t believe in the power that his words try to assert, in fact, he’s never felt more powerless in his whole life. He thrashes and spits invective at the death’s head but then Haley suddenly appears in the creature’s arms. He doesn’t have a moment to react or to tell her that it’ll be all right. The creature draws a long blade-like finger across her throat and her expression goes pale. Hotch screams but it doesn’t drown out the sound Haley’s head makes as the creature crushes it between his hands. 

His eyes are temporarily blinded by the knowledge of what he’s just witnessed; he failed to save her again. But the death’s head begins laughing, a dry toneless rasp. Hotch looks up to see Jack in the creature’s hands. He roars and pulls against the blades that pin him like an insect, leaving sections of himself behind in a desperate attempt to reach his son. 

_Not Jack! You can’t have him!_

“Hotch” the thing whispers.

He pulls and strains and struggles until he feels like he’ll burst. He looks down and sees that his arms are nailed to the floor even though he is sitting up… his shoulders end in bloody stumps…

“Hotch,” the creature hisses again “if you want to save him, wake up…”

_HOTCH, WAKE UP!_

He felt a weight pushing him down and with a feral scream he pushed back with all of his strength. His body rolled to the side and he struck out with a newly freed hand receiving a satisfying grunt for his efforts. Something beside him in the darkness gasped and then quickly pinned his arms back against his sides.

“Hotch, wake up!”

The person rolled and straddled Hotch’s waist with his body keeping his arms safely pinned to his sides. There are no knives; the surface beneath him is a mattress not a damp sticky floor, the person on top of him is speaking not laughing at him…

“Hotch… Jack is fine… he’s at his aunt’s… you’re okay”

Hotch blinked in the darkness and started to recognize the shadows of his bedroom. He looked up at the voice above him and saw unruly hair, narrow shoulders…

“Reid?”

“Yeah.” The figure gasped and released his arms.

Hotch covered his face with his hands and tried to mask the sob that erupted from him. His chest hiccupped and he felt Reid move with it. Then the bed sagged as he felt Reid lean forward over him.

“Hotch?”

He struggled to swallow back his tears - it was acceptable to be frightened after what had just happened, but it wasn’t okay to cry in front of a team member, even one who was sitting on his chest. Hotch used one hand to wave off the incident and covered his eyes with his other arm.

“I’ll be okay.” He croaked.

But he wasn’t going to be okay. Hotch felt the full body shaking start to build in the base of his spine. He felt the aftershocks of terror phase in and out of his stomach, which would make getting any further sleep impossible. And he felt something new: exposure, shame, anger at his own inability to harness his own mind… what Reid must think of him…

He felt Reid quickly get off his chest and move to the edge of the bed.

“Sit up,” he whispered, “Catch your breath.”

Hotch moved slowly and kept his eyes down. He couldn’t look at Reid. He tried breathing deeply to offset the tremors but soon felt the bed vibrating beneath him. Reid’s arm settled across his back and began to circle in light, slow movements.

“How long has this been going on?”

“S-s…” Hotch gulped and started again. “Six weeks. It’s s-scaring the hell out of Jack.”

“Scared the hell out of me too. It sounded like you were being murdered up here.”

“It f-felt like I was.”

Hotch didn’t know why, but in that moment he decided to tell Reid everything: the death’s head, Haley’s reoccurring murder, the dismemberment, his shame, and fear… everything. By the time he was done, he couldn’t stop the shaking that was starting to resemble a low-grade seizure. Reid remained silent throughout and continued stroking Hotch’s back in small circles. 

“This is very serious.” He said finally. “You need to get some professional help.”

Hotch sat up straighter and looked at Reid for the first time. “That’ll end me at the Bureau.”

“I don’t think that’s - ”

“Violent night terrors surrounding the murder of my ex-wife? Manifesting a year later?”

“We both know that there’s no timeline for this sort of emotional trauma…”

“I’ll be removed as head of the unit. They’ll say that its just a temporary leave, but I’ll never have Strauss’s or the Director’s confidence again. I will never be promoted, unless it is laterally and outside of the BAU - in fact, I’ll be encouraged to take early retirement. Strauss already tried that once, right after the funeral…”

“She did?”

Hotch nodded, his shaking increased a notch. “Retired at 45. What would I do with myself? This job has been my life…”

“Aaron…”

Hotch wasn’t listening. He stared at the darkened walls of his bedroom and felt them slowly start to move in on him. His breath hitched painfully in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

_Why do I have to be so aware that I’m losing my mind?_

“Foyet wanted to destroy me completely. I guess that he’ll get his wish, eventually.”

Hotch felt Reid’s fingers along his jaw as they turned his face to look at him. 

“I think that your fears around seeking professional therapy are unfounded, and I’m going on the record now as being in favor of you getting real help before this gets any worse.”

Hotch was about to object, but Reid raised a finger to silence him. 

“But, knowing your stubbornness and how reticent you are to reveal anything about your personal struggles in general, I think that I might be able to help you with this. I know a little bit about night terrors… there are things that you could try… I-I’d rather you’d have some help than none at all, I guess.”

Hotch stared at Reid in disbelief. He was going to _help_ him? What had Hotch ever really done for Reid to encourage this sort of support now? He had to ask…

“Why? W-why would you do that for me?”

Reid sighed. “When Hankel took me… I was terrified. I knew that I was going to die but I also knew that you’d find me, sooner or later. You’d never give up and you’d give me justice - that’s the only thing that I thought about at the end. Garcia told me later that you didn’t stop watching the feed from Hankel’s video stream until you knew where I was. You didn’t leave me alone for a moment…”

Hotch’s head drooped as he thought about the silent struggle that Reid fought alone against the addiction that Hankel left with him. No one ever acknowledged it and no one took time to make sure that he was okay in the aftermath of that case.

“What came later was no one’s fault.” Reid said as if reading Hotch’s mind. “You were there for me even when I didn’t know it.”

Hotch didn’t think that was true at all.

“I would do anything to go back and change that if I could.” Hotch whispered.

“I know. But let’s see if we can change this, okay?”

Hotch nodded and felt the tears rising in him again. He reached out for Reid and buried his face in the younger man’s shoulder. Reid stiffened a little and then carefully wrapped his arms around Hotch’s shaking frame. Hotch clutched at Reid’s back and held him close suddenly no longer concerned if the man heard the relieved sobs that he was making.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Can I borrow a shirt?”

Reid had spent what remained of the night sleeping in a chair in Hotch’s room. He looked almost as rough as Hotch did. It was Friday - they had to go into the office to file their case reports but other than that, it would be a light day. Hotch didn’t feel so bad when he considered that Reid could probably finish off his report in an hour and then head back to his apartment to get some sleep.

“Sure.” Hotch went to his closet and pulled out a shirt still wrapped in dry cleaners plastic. “Sorry about the sleeping arrangements.”

Reid unwrapped the shirt and dismissed the comment about the chair. Hotch wondered if the shirt would fit, but then realized that the young man’s size was deceptive. He and Reid were nearly the same height; he remembered that he had been shocked by it when he had stood behind Reid at the firing range correcting his stance and posture.

Reid quickly removed his shirt revealing a large purple bruise below his ribs on his left side.

“Reid…” Hotch moved forward and pointed to it.

Reid looked down at himself and let out a noise of surprise. “I guess that you hit me harder than I thought last night. No wonder why I couldn’t get comfortable in that chair…”

Reid shrugged into the clean shirt and began buttoning it without concern.

“I _hit_ you?!”

“Last night, before you snapped out of it.” Reid tucked in his shirttails and looked over his shoulder at Hotch’s horrified expression. “What’s the matter? I bet that you didn’t think I could take a punch, did you?”


	4. Traveling Without A Map

NOW

Hotch sat in the hallway outside his OPR hearing. His chest ached where the surgery seam was still healing just above his heart. The doctors said that if the bullet had been a millimeter or two lower… well, he wouldn’t be forced to sit there and be humiliated by the bureaucracy of the FBI. 

He was early; even his representative wasn’t there yet. With nothing to do and no one to talk to, he sat impotently on the hard bench and seethed about circumstances. _This must be what it feels like to be old and irrelevant_ , he thought.

The door to the review chamber opened and Reid stepped out accompanied by a security guard.

“Thank you for your time, Dr. Reid. Please remember that your testimony is considered confidential until a decision is reached by the panel.”

“Yes, of course.” Reid turned away from the guard and saw Hotch for the first time.

“S.S.A. Hotchner, the panel isn’t ready for you yet. Is your representative here?” the guard asked.

“No, but I’m sure that he’ll be here shortly.” The guard nodded and retired back into the review chamber.

Hotch nodded at Reid. It had been nearly 3 weeks since he’d seen him at the hospital. He’d come by with Jack, his face unreadable as he lingered in the corner of the room while Jack peppered him with questions…

Reid waved. “You look better.”

Hotch stood so that he could be eye to eye with him. “Yeah, it’s mostly stiffness and discomfort now.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Hotch couldn’t stop staring; it felt like years since he’d seen him. The younger agent’s face and hands had healed over - only one or two scars still showed up on his skin. Reid looked around, down to his shoes, he readjusted his bag on his shoulder, and then looked as though he was about to make a polite exit when Hotch stopped him.

“I hope that they weren’t too grueling in there.”

Reid smirked. “It’s not my first review. I think that I intimidate a few members of the panel anyway, so it’s just a matter of leveraging that to my overall advantage.”

Hotch smiled. “I remember a time when you wouldn’t have known that about yourself.”

Reid’s face darkened. “Well, we all have to grow up eventually.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hotch said quickly. “I mean that it makes me proud to see your confidence… no one pushes you around anymore.”

Reid just stared at Hotch.

Down the hall, a man hurried towards them waving. “Aaron! Hi, sorry I’m late… the beltway’s a travesty…”

Reid ducked his head and murmured something sounding like a goodbye. Hotch reached out to stop him as he passed. “Jack misses you. You should come by and see him. He won’t let me finish reading _The Velveteen Rabbit_ to him - he says that I don’t do the voices like you do…”

Reid looked like Hotch had just stabbed him in the gut, and Hotch’s heart ached to think that he had caused it, even inadvertently. 

“Tell him that I miss him too.”

Reid shrugged out of Hotch’s hand and walked towards the exit just as Hotch’s legal rep enveloped him in a flurry of complaints about D.C. traffic, the inconvenient location of Quantico, and the dislike that he had for OPR in general. Hotch ignored the man and watched Reid disappear down the hallway. His chest hurt again for reasons entirely independent of his surgery. He wondered if Reid’s reaction would’ve been different if he had told him that _he_ missed him…

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BEFORE

The doorbell sounded and before Hotch could grab him, Jack made a beeline for the front door.

“Jack!” He tripped over a fire truck that his son had left in the living room and went down, smashing his knee into the floor. He suppressed the urge to swear violently, but just barely. He could hear Jack talking in the hallway as he picked up the toy and limped around the corner.

“…macaroni and cheese tonight. Do you like cheese?”

“Jack, what have I told you about opening the door for strangers?”

Hotch looked up and saw Jack talking to Reid who stood bewildered in the doorway.

“S’not a stranger, Dad - its Dr. Reid!” The boy pointed accusingly at Reid who waved awkwardly.

“Jack, remember I said that you could call me Spencer…” Reid looked to Hotch and lifted a bag towards him. “Sorry for coming unannounced, but I brought you those things that we discussed.”

Hotch limped forward wearing a blank expression. “What things?”

“Things to help you sleep…” Reid stared at Hotch’s leg with concern. “What happened to you?”

Hotch waved the fire truck at both Reid and his son. “A little emergency collision courtesy of Jack. Maybe you could go clean up your things before you accidentally put your Dad into traction, hmmmm?”

Jack took the truck from his father and mumbled something that sounded like ‘sorry’ before heading back down the hall. Reid smiled as Jack pretended to enter the living room but instead hid just behind the doorframe to spy on his father.

“Ummm… so… yeah, here are some things: a white noise machine, pressure bandages, some helpful books about handling sleep disorders… I took the liberty of highlighting relevant sections for you…”

“Reid…” Hotch raised his hands. “I appreciate the effort, especially given that you’ve had next to no sleep yourself, but I don’t think that this was necessary.”

“I see. Have you discovered a miracle cure since last night when you used me as a punching bag and then shook like a leaf for over an hour?” Reid’s voice was polite but firm, the way he would speak to an obstinent child.

“I… well, obviously…”

“Hotch.” Reid stared his superior down and raised a critical eyebrow. “It’s going to take work to get past this. You need to make time for it.”

It was Hotch’s turn to mumble an apology. Reid held out the bag and Hotch accepted it while looking down at his shoes.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Sorry to interrupt your evening.” Reid turned to go and Jack suddenly popped out of his hiding place behind the doorjamb.

“Dad! Can Spencer stay for dinner? He likes cheese…” 

Reid began flapping like a guppy and started to stammer out a reason why he couldn’t stay.

“Daddy, c’mon… pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaase?” Jack broke out the look that is the undoing of parents the world over. Hotch sighed and gestured grandly towards Reid.

“Dr. Reid, the presence of your company is requested at the Hotchner banquet hall by order of his eminence, King Jack. Tonight we sup on macaroni mixed with cheese - his eminence’s favorite - and hope that our humble fare suits your palette. Please enter and share your happiness with us this night.”

Jack giggled and Reid blinked, clearly shocked by Hotch’s playacting. After a moment Hotch leaned forward and whispered, “C’mon, don’t make me do that again…”

“Ummm… okay. I’d be honored, I guess.”

Jack cheered and ran forward to drag Reid into the living room to witness the carnage of toys that he had failed to clean up.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hotch rose up from the hushed embrace of sleep and breathed in deeply. He cracked an eyelid and felt the sting of light hit his relaxed iris. He blinked a few times until the dim outlines of his bedroom solidified. A figure was outlined beside him, highlighted from the small bedside lamp and the glow of a laptop screen. His glasses were blue-green mirrors reflecting nothing of the person behind them.

“I want you to know that I was _not_ staring at you while you slept.” The speaker didn’t turn to face him but kept on typing instead. “Because you find it creepy.”

“Hmmm.” Hotch croaked. “Thanks.”

“You’re staring at me.” Reid said.

“Yeah, but this isn’t creepy either - it’s curiosity. What are you working on?”

“Just my case summary.”

“How many pages are you up to?”

“A hundred and nine.”

“Jesus, Reid.” Hotch scrubbed his face. “You’re killing me with these replete summaries. Some day, some administrator is going to turn you into a style manual for cadets and then no SAC will ever be able to sleep or go on holiday again.”

Reid stopped typing and looked down at Hotch. His glasses winked with the glow from his screen. Hotch imagined an eyebrow arching behind them.

“What’s with the glasses?” Hotch nodded.

“My contacts are only good for about 12 hours. After that they make me want to claw my eyes out.”

Hotch thought that the glasses made him look handsome, mature, professorial…

“Oh. What time is it?”

“1:30a.m.”

“Did I do it again? Did I freak out?”

“You started yelling in your sleep about an hour ago, but I couldn’t wake you up this time. You seemed to calm down when you sensed another person nearby. I tried to leave, but you became agitated again. So, I stayed - and that’s why I’m in your bed. Nothing untoward.”

Hotch hid a smile at Reid’s matter-of-fact analysis of the situation, and his assurances that he had no erotic agenda. He liked to cover his bases. But why had he made a point of mentioning that his behavior was all above board? Had Hotch made him feel uncomfortable?

“I-I’m sorry about this whole situation, Reid. You’ve really done more than you need to.”

Reid stared at him, his face unreadable behind his glowing lenses. “I really think that you should see a specialist, Hotch. The sleep aids aren’t really working well… you could be doing so much better…”

“No, absolutely not.” He shook his head angrily. Reid _knew_ why that wasn’t an option. “I understand that this is too much to expect of you, Reid… I’ve already asked too much. You don’t have to keep watch over me. You should go home - get some sleep.”

Hotch was surprised at how angry he had become, and how quickly. Things were better if Reid was around but it was clear that the young man had grown weary of the responsibility and was too polite to say anything. He appreciated the help but he didn’t _need_ it. He had taken care of himself for nearly 30 years and he could certainly see his way through this without a genius’s help.

Reid just stared at him. Hotch felt another angry response growing in him as the minutes passed by, but eventually Reid turned away and started typing again.

“Go back to sleep, Hotch.” He murmured.

“I mean it, Reid, I’ll be fine. Go home.”

“A few more hours and you’ll feel like a new man.” Reid didn’t look away from the computer screen. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”


	5. Insight

BEFORE

Hotch sat quietly in the chair opposite his living room couch and watched Reid sleep. The younger man had spent most nights in the last two weeks there. At first, it was at Reid’s insistence, to see how effective the sleep aids were, and later, it was because Hotch was worried for Jack’s wellbeing. The sleep aids were helping, but not enough; he was still experiencing night terrors 4 or 5 nights a week and often several times a night.

Reid had a way with Jack that gave Hotch a warm feeling that he seldom experienced. It was almost as if the two were long lost playmates at times. Hotch wondered if Reid had ever had a chance to enjoy a natural, innocent friendship with another child his own age when he was a boy. He suspected not. It seemed wholly unfair that Reid had been denied a childhood simply because his intellect eclipsed most adults. Every child should have an opportunity to make pillow forts and play with action figures and build spaceships out of Lego…

Hotch was growing accustomed to having Reid around. It was nice to hear the house full of activity again, and he also enjoyed having an adult to talk to. They tried not to discuss work, but it invariably happened, and they danced around talking of Hotch’s nightmares for reasons that he was unsure of. Nightfall still filled him with dread but he felt bolstered by Reid’s presence. Every night that Reid stayed, Hotch felt further indebted to him. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that he’d never be able to repay what he owed and, despite that, he still selfishly wanted more and more of Reid’s time and attention.

Reid turned in his sleep so that light from the living room window highlighted his face. Hotch tried to analyze it impartially but the first thought that popped into his head was ‘handsome’. He rubbed his eyes and thought, _where did that come from?_

The team had their own theories about Reid and his romantic leanings. Hotch had always dismissed any thoughts on the matter as inappropriate and none of his business. But… if he gave himself permission to be curious, he _did_ wonder about Reid’s internal life. Whatever it may be, Hotch hoped that Reid was happy - the young man certainly deserved it. Another errant whisper in his head suggested that anyone who made Reid unhappy would have to deal with him…

Reid stretched and then blinked, taking in the room around him. He caught sight of Hotch’s silhouette and let out a yelp before he could cover his mouth.

“What are you doing?” He hissed.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh. Did you have a nightmare? I didn’t hear anything…”

“No. I slept for a few hours and then woke up. I’m wide awake now… I think that its just garden variety insomnia this time.”

Reid pushed himself up onto one elbow and watched Hotch. The two men stared at each other for a long time in comfortable silence. Hotch sighed, a rare, confessional fit overtaking him.

“You’re good with Jack - he’s really taken to you.”

“He’s a neat kid - and bright - he’s not hard to like.”

“Be that as it may, not everyone is comfortable around children. It suits you… someday you’ll make a great dad…”

Reid looked away and scowled.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Depends. Are you making fun of me?”

Hotch was shocked that Reid believed he could take advantage of the younger man’s help and then insult him to his face. “Why would I be making fun of you?” He whispered. “Don’t you want a family?”

“Yes, I want a family,” Reid said with bitterness, “but I can’t have one.” 

Fearing that he might be pushing the bounds of their tenuous friendship, Hotch leaned in and became inappropriate. “Why not?”

“One generally needs a wife for that.”

“Well…” Hotch’s throat suddenly became dry. “Not necessarily… not anymore… there are all kinds of configurations these days.”

Reid chuckled and Hotch looked up to see him grinning at him. “What’s the office pool up to? $200? Will you win if you ‘out’ me tonight?”

Hotch couldn’t think of a thing to say and found himself opening and closing his mouth uselessly. Reid laughed again - a big toothy grin - and laid back against the couch.

“Relax, Hotch. Do you think that I don’t know what gets said about me when I’m not in the room? I don’t mind - when it comes to the team, I know that they do it out of love.”

“I wasn’t trying… I didn’t mean to…” Hotch shook his head firmly. “It doesn’t interest me one way or another.”

“Really?” Reid’s stare seemed to pierce at him in the darkness. 

“Well, in that case I’ll just tell you why I can’t have a family… I worry about passing on my Mom’s schizophrenia. I don’t think that it’s safe to have children of my own. The fact that I have very little chance of attracting someone who would want to spend enough time with me to have a child, let alone the rest of their life, seems a moot point.”

Again, Hotch found himself staring in disbelief. “I think that you really sell yourself short, Reid.”

“Thanks, Hotch. That’s a sweet, soft lie.”

“It’s not a lie.” Hotch became irrationally angry at how easily Reid dismissed himself. He was special - how dare he or anyone else think otherwise? He stood and decided to leave before he said something foolish.

“Well, goodnight then…” Reid’s voice sounded half asleep already which was impossible.

“You know what?” Hotch rounded on him, apparently unable to avoid saying something foolish. “I don’t care how smart you are, you’re wrong about yourself. Just wrong.”

The young man propped himself on his elbows and stared at Hotch through the living room shadows but said nothing.

“You deserve to be happy, Reid, and I’m absolutely certain that you could make someone happy in return. Don’t cave into the belief that you are unlovable like the rest of us. You can have everything you want, you just have to _try_ …”

A strange sound came from Reid; one that Hotch couldn’t identify. “Okay, Hotch.”

“Okay, then.” Hotch huffed, feeling a bit hysterical and silly. “Well… goodnight.”

“Yeah, sleep well.” Reid said quietly as he lay back down and hid himself under a blanket in the dark. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He wasn’t sure if the struggle woke him or if Reid had. He also wasn’t certain if the screams had been in his dreams or not.

_Please God, let this stop, pleasepleasepleaseplease…._

“Aaron, Aaron!” Hotch struggled in Reid’s grip. “Aaron, you’re okay… I’ve got you… you’re okay…”

Hotch suddenly became aware of where he was and stopped fighting. He sunk into Reid’s arms and rested his head against Reid’s shoulder. “Did I make a lot of noise this time?” His voice was wobbly.

“Not enough to disturb Jack.” Reid whispered. “I managed to wake you in time.”

Reid was sitting across him - it was always the same: Reid had to pin his arms down or Hotch would lash out at him as he tried to wake up. Hotch was sitting up and curled into Reid as the tremors came on. The younger man had taken to sleeping in the same bed as him - sometimes the nearness of another person was enough to give Hotch a good night. But other nights, nothing could stop the dream from taking hold of him. The only benefit was that Reid was close enough to wake him before it got really bad. He had no idea how the man knew that he was about to freak out beside him, but he always did. Hotch suspected that Reid was learning to live on considerably less sleep than he was used to.

The shaking was worse than usual tonight and Reid held Hotch to him tightly in an effort to stop it. 

“S-sorry.” Hotch stuttered into Reid’s shoulder. The young man smelled like freshly cut grass and Hotch wondered how he managed that.

“It’s all right, Aaron, I’m right here with you.” He was almost impossible to hear. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Hotch stilled for a moment as he realized that he _truly believed_ what Reid just said. He raised his head and stared into the silhouette of the man’s face above him. “You really wouldn’t, would you?”

_Please God, let it stop… let Reid protect me… let that be real._

Reid didn’t say anything.

“Why?” Hotch asked, half curious half afraid.

_Let it be real. Please let that be real. Let this thing with Reid be real…_

Again, Reid didn’t say anything and remained perfectly still. 

“Please just tell me why?” Hotch’s voice broke. “Why are you doing any of this? If I were you, I wouldn’t get caught up in this mess…”  
 _But I’m glad that you’re here. I’m not sure what I’d do if you weren’t._

Reid remained infuriatingly silent. Hotch stared and twitched in his grip waiting for something - anything - to happen. He closed his eyes and pleaded for a sense of calm or normalcy to rescue him, but all he received was the endless trembling of his body and the briefest ghost of Reid’s breath across his face. He leaned forward and quickly kissed the younger man’s lips. 

Almost as soon as he had done it, he felt like a fool. Not only was it highly inappropriate and an excellent basis for a workplace harassment suit, it was sort of like emotional blackmail in their current circumstances. Hotch _needed_ Reid, and he needed the young man to keep his secret. Reid didn’t need any of this and could walk away at any time. Hotch was keenly aware of how dependent he had become on this man, and maybe some part of him was angling to give him a reason to stick around. 

Also, he was 15 years older than Reid. The younger man probably considered him careworn and unattractive. Even if Reid liked men - and Hotch wasn’t certain of that at all - why would he want a mentally unstable, widowed, single parent who had more emotional hang-ups than wrinkles on his face? Hotch was suddenly mortified. He’d never been attracted to a man before - what had possessed him to do that?

_Shit. Shit!_

Hotch pulled away and tried to think of something to say - some excuse that would smooth everything out between them - when Reid leaned in and kissed him back.

Hotch made a surprised noise against Reid’s mouth. Reid pulled back and Hotch reached up to cup the back of the man’s head as he caught his lips again. Reid’s lips opened inviting Hotch in, and the two traded lips and tongues and shared breath back and forth as they pulled in closer to one another. Reid settled himself in Hotch’s lap and the older man was shocked to feel an erection press against his thigh. His hips moved upwards in approval and his hands stilled Reid as the younger man tried to move off his lap.

Hotch had been lonely for a long time. His marriage had been slowly disintegrating long before Haley filed for divorce. It wasn’t for lack of love, but Hotch had to admit, he’d been neglectful. Through his estrangement, then bachelorhood, and finally as a widower, he had never sought out someone to be with. He was an older man with a son and responsibilities… even if the drive had been there, he didn’t know if he could make the time for it. 

Now, he remembered what it felt like to want. He wanted Reid - he wanted to get off on him and see what it looked like to bring pleasure to someone new. He had forgotten how exciting firsts could be. There was something to be said for the trust and honesty that familiar intimacy could offer, but nothing could match the twin highs of fear and excitement that you got from being with someone for the first time.

Reid smelled great and his lips tasted like cool water on a hot day. Hotch’s hand twisted into the hair at Reid’s neck and he thought, _there’s nothing about him that I don’t want_. What chased that exciting thought was that he had no idea how to be with another man. Suddenly, fear flashed through him and he pulled away in mid-kiss.

“Aaron?” Reid’s voice was thick.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” He blurted. 

Reid shifted in Hotch’s lap and was about to say something when they heard Jack cry out from his room down the hall. Moving in unison, Reid shifted off Hotch as the older man threw back the sheets and went to tend to his son.

Hotch ran down the hall and turned on the lamp in his son’s room. He saw Jack’s tear-stained face peering up at him and went to sit beside him. “What’s the matter, buddy?”

“I had a bad dream. Monsters…”

“Monsters, huh? They must have been pretty scary to frighten a tough kid like you.”

“Where were the monsters, Jack?” Hotch turned and saw Reid standing in the bedroom doorway. He hadn’t expected him to follow for some reason. “Maybe we should check… just to make sure that they don’t come back…”

Jack curled into Hotch’s chest and nodded slightly. He pointed to the closet. Reid snuck up on the closet door and then swung it open with a flourish. Jack gasped against Hotch’s chest, but craned his head to try and see past Reid’s body into the closet. Reid tossed some things around and rattled some boxes, and then reappeared triumphantly, “Nope, nothing there. Where else?”

Jack pointed downward, below the bed. Reid got down on his hands and knees making a big show of sweeping under the dark recesses of Jack’s bed.

“Huh, that’s weird - nothing here either. Anywhere else?”

Jack shook his head and grabbed onto Hotch. “They were _real_.”

“I know they were.” Reid asserted with complete confidence. “Why would you make up monsters in your room? Who would call _that_ fun, right?”

Jack nodded.

“I have a theory. Wanna here it?”

Jack nodded again.

Reid rose up and sat on the edge of the boy’s tiny bed. He looked ridiculous: all legs and arms…

“I think that you destroyed them without even realizing it.”

Jack looked up at his father and then back at Reid dubiously.

“No, seriously… did you know that if you concentrate hard enough on the phrase ‘Monsters aren’t real’, that your brain could produce psychic waves that’ll cause a monster’s molecules to shake until they explode?”

The boy sat up straight, suddenly extremely interested.

“Reid…” Hotch warned but was quickly silenced by a wave from Reid.

“Do you know what a molecule is?”

Jack shook his head, no, but was intrigued by this brain-exploding concept.

“Molecules are these invisible bundles of energy that make up everything in the universe. You, me, the carpet, clouds, pop tarts… everything. If molecules get excited and start to wiggle a lot, they forget how to make up whatever they are a part of, like the shape of a monster for example. So, if you thought ‘Monsters aren’t real’ loudly enough, maybe your thoughts transmitted to the monster molecules and they got nervous because they didn’t _know_ if they were real anymore. Maybe they got so nervous that they forgot how to make the shape of a monster and… POOF!... the monster ceased to exist.”

“Wow!” Jack gasped and looked back at his father. “Do you think that could happen, Dad?”

“Well, Spencer is a scientist and he knows a lot about molecules…”

“I think it’s a very solid theory myself,” Reid chimed in. “I may have achieved it once when I was your age. It’s pretty hard to do, but once you’ve done it, the monsters steer clear of you.”

Jack offered up a shy smile.

“Do you think that you could go back to sleep now?” Hotch asked.

“Can you read me a story, Dad?” Jack reached over to the bedside table for a book.

“I don’t know, buddy, it’s really late…” Jack handed Hotch the storybook and Hotch saw it tremble in his grip.

“Please, Daddy? Just for a little while?”

Hotch was about to resist when Reid reached across and took the book from his hands. He looked at Hotch as he spoke. “How about I do it, Jack? Your Dad’s pretty tired… Would that be okay?”

“Okay.” Jack snuggled down into his bed as Hotch got up and traded places with Reid. He let his hand brush the younger man’s as they passed each other. Reid acted like nothing happened.

Hotch retreated to the darkness beyond the doorway and watched as Reid folded himself next to his son on the small bed. Jack curled into him and watched the pages turn with interest until his eyes started to droop. Hotch’s heart beat ferociously in his chest as he watched his boy; nothing was as beautiful to him as Jack, and this… whatever it was… was threatening to take that from him. 

_I have to find a way through this._

He only wished that his own demons could be so easily destroyed as Jack’s monsters. And he also wished that Reid could slay them for him.


	6. A Slight Return

NOW

Hotch entered the conference room and took a seat next to Rossi.

“So, how does it feel to be back?”

“Weird.” Hotch murmured as he watched the rest of the team file in and realize that their former SAC was present. “I had to retie my tie 3 times this morning…”

“3 months off can change a guy but I thought that you were born wearing a tie…” Rossi looked at him in mild shock that produced a rare smile from Hotch.

J.J., Prentiss, and Morgan all came by to pay their respects and make small talk. Finally Garcia and Reid arrived, the latter looking like he had seen a ghost instead of his former boss at the table. Everybody sat and looked expectantly at Hotch.

“It’s good to see you all again and I look forward to catching up once this case is behind us.” He said, slipping back into stoic-Hotch mode.

When silence settled on the room and everyone was still looking at him, he knew that he’d have to give a little more. “Morgan is still SAC. For the time being, I’m just another field agent in this unit.”

Eyebrows were subtly raised and then lowered, and faces turned towards Morgan to begin the briefing. 

“I’m sure that you’ll be back to captaining the ship and taking over my punishing paperwork responsibilities in no time, Hotch.” Morgan flashed him a smile and then launched into the case briefing. 

Some time later, as the team organized their assignments and got ready to go to the airstrip, Rossi leaned over and whispered, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Hotch watched Reid collect his papers and duck out of the conference room without conversation or even so much as a backwards glance. _Actually,_ he thought, _its worse._

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hotch found himself staring at the back of Reid’s head on the jet, willing him to switch seats and talk to him. 

_You could always go over there and force him to talk to you…_

He didn’t want it to come to that but if Reid was going to persist in avoiding him, he’d have to take action sooner rather than later. Could Reid hate him _that much_? If he did, it was going to make things very uncomfortable, and it was going to make him miserable for the foreseeable future as well. 

“Hey.” Morgan sat down in the seat next to him, forcing him to act like he was contemplating something other than the inner workings of Dr. Reid. “So, how does it feel?”

“I’m fine, Morgan. I’m eager to get back to work.”

“You know that Strauss gave me the heads up about your return. She also gave me a great song and dance about how it wouldn’t affect my status as acting unit chief.”

“It won’t.”

“Hotch,” Morgan leaned in. “This is _your job_ , man. I told her that if you were back, then it should be as this team’s leader, not me.”

“I’ve got to prove myself and I’m fine with that, Derek. I appreciate your sentiment, but I have to rebuild the trust that I squandered.” Hotch made a concerted effort not to look in Reid’s direction.

“Well, you don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m just glad that you got some help and that you came back. That’s all I need to know.”

Morgan offered his hand to Hotch and they shook. _Well, that’s one down._

“Thank you.”

Morgan nodded and went back to his seat next to Rossi and Prentiss. Once again, he was alone. The jet would be landing in 20 minutes; he had to get his head into the case. There would be time to over think Reid’s micro expressions after it was done.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The case had been intense. There hadn’t been much time to do anything but work for 4 days straight, for which he had been thankful. It turned out that he enjoyed just being a team member and not the almighty leader from whom all direction came. He enjoyed being in the field, he enjoyed leaving the expected local LEO hostility to Morgan and J.J., and - let’s face it - he enjoyed busting down doors a little. It was good to know that he hadn’t completely gone to seed. When they caught the UNSUB, Hotch had been first through the door and the takedown was textbook. It was a good conclusion and he felt good about being a part of it.

In turn, the team seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. No doubt there were some lingering questions of the operational suitability of an agent who had just returned from a 3 month mental leave, but none of that appeared to matter as they boarded the jet home. There also seemed to be an acceptance of Hotch in a reduced role within the team. Morgan had made things considerably easier on that score; the sign of a good leader who wore his authority with grace. 

As Hotch drove back to the office from the airstrip, he felt confident that things would work out within the unit, no matter if he resumed the role of SAC or not. He also felt certain that he could mend fences with the team in time. Reid remained the only question mark, and it was maddening how much that uncertainty upset him. His therapist had told him to be patient: complex relationships were hard to redefine - it couldn’t be done overnight. But he had things that he wanted to get off his chest, and Reid’s cold shoulder act was getting to him.

Two weeks passed and Reid gave him only the bare minimum of notice when they were in the same room together. When other team members started to give him questioning looks over the situation, Hotch decided that he had been respectful long enough. One morning he spotted Reid heading for the staff kitchen, and followed him.

“Morning.”

“Uh, hi. I’ll be out of your way in a sec.” Reid didn’t look at him as he quickly prepared the sugar and cream cocktail that he called coffee.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you.”

“Yeah?” Reid still had his back turned. “What about?”

“Well, we haven’t really spoken at all since I got back. There are things that need to be cleared up…”

Reid turned and gave Hotch a cold, unreadable stare. “Is this a 12-Step thing? Because I’ve done the steps. You can make amends to me if you want, but I’m telling you right now that it’s not necessary, okay? You haven’t wronged me.”

“This isn’t a step, and I believe that I _do_ have to make some things up to you, Reid. I have to make things right with everyone here; the difference is that everyone is open to it but you. People are starting to notice how you act around me. I just want to work through it so that we can get past it.”

“Get past it?” Reid murmured but his expression remained the same. 

“Please, Reid… I’m really trying to get everything back on track.”

“Sure, you’re absolutely right - I’ve been remiss.” Reid fixed a frighteningly fake smile to his face. “I’m glad to see you back, Hotch - it’s a relief to know that you’re okay. I apologize for my antisocial behavior of late: I have been preoccupied with personal matters.”

Hotch was about to interrupt but Reid held him at bay with a raised hand. “I meant what I said about making amends - you don’t owe me anything. I also don’t think that it would be good to discuss your therapy with me… that’s private and I wouldn’t presume to intrude. The slate is clean between us, okay? Truly.”

Hotch was stunned into momentary silence by his speech. The seam of his bullet wound throbbed once, painfully. He rubbed it and looked away feeling as though he had nothing left with which to bargain. “If that’s how you want it…”

“I think it’s for the best.” Reid hinted at emotion for the first time.

“Okay.” Hotch’s voice broke but he cleared his throat to cover it. He held out his hand to Reid and the younger agent shook it quickly before walking back out into the bullpen. Hotch stared after him and watched as he shrugged into his chair and sipped his coffee like it was any other morning.

_Shit._

Hotch rubbed the now aching seam above his heart.

_shitshitshitshitshit._


	7. Watching and Waiting

Rossi poked his head into Hotch’s office. It was _his_ office again, Hotch couldn’t help thinking.

“Garcia just pounced on me outside of the men’s room to ask whether I was bringing a date to the party. _What party?_ ”

“She’s throwing me a party at my house this weekend to celebrate my re-instatement. I guess that she’s trying to nail down numbers…”

“Re-instatement? When did that come through?” He walked into the office with a grin.

“Like you didn’t know, Dave.”

“Well, I suspected something was up when Strauss came to my office last week for an assessment of your performance instead of waiting for my actual report to be filed. Congratulations, Hotch.” Rossi shook his hand.

“Thanks.” Hotch smiled. “I was content to be a field agent, but it’s a real boost to know that I’ve regained the unit’s confidence again.”

“I think that Strauss just got tired of listening to Morgan bitch about his carpal tunnel.”

“Well, he’s still my second, so he’s not getting away from writing reports entirely.”

“Whatever - this is great! So, there’s a party?”

“You know Garcia - she loves an excuse to celebrate and once she’s got the bit between her teeth…”

“She assaults innocent men outside the restroom, yeah, I know that.” Rossi sighed. “Well, count me in - I might even scrounge up a date.”

“That alone would be worth it.” Hotch arched an eyebrow dubiously.

“So, have you smoothed things out with the kid yet?”

Hotch’s mood evaporated. “He says that he’s fine with everything.”

“And you believe that?”

Hotch stayed silent and rearranged things on his desk.

“Have you tried-”

“I can’t force him into anything, Dave.” Hotch said quickly. “He’s made up his mind about things. I’ve thought a lot about what you said… about how he sees me and sees this situation… but I can’t _make_ him listen to me if he says that he’s not interested.”

“He’s pretty stubborn.” Rossi said quietly. “So are you. It’s a good defense mechanism… really hard to work around. But it’s not infallible.”

Hotch looked up but Rossi just smiled and shrugged. “Maybe he’ll come to the party.”

The possibility made Hotch’s mouth go dry. _Would he come? And, if he did, what would that mean?_ Rossi sauntered out of the office and left his friend alone with his thoughts.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Garcia had outdone herself. In a few brief hours she had transformed Hotch’s back yard into a luau paradise complete with twinkly lights, tiki accessories and a genuine fire pit upon which to slow roast an entire pig. She promptly placed Rossi in charge of tending the fire, Prentiss became the bartender, and Morgan was dispatched to ensure that the music was always appropriate. J.J. and Will had brought Henry - which delighted Jack to no end - Rossi had brought a leggy assistant from his publisher’s office, and Kevin was following Garcia around like an indentured servant. Hotch was told to sit and relax for the whole evening; he was not to do anything.

But he did. Secretly. 

Every time the doorbell sounded he went to answer it with his stomach in knots, half hoping half dreading that it would be Reid. Every time the phone rang, or Garcia hurried into another room to text someone, his hope sprang anew. Each time he was wrong and each time he covered his disappointment effortlessly. He smiled, he joked, he ate and drank. The party was a great success and he was privately miserable.

The evening proceeded and friends came and went, temporarily distracting and delighting him. It wasn’t entirely awful; he genuinely enjoyed being back amongst the people that he considered part of his extended family. It was even better to know that they all still respected him - now more so - because he had stumbled badly, but had admitted his failings and come back again. It was as though they were congratulating him for recognizing his own frailty. Eventually, Hotch excused himself to put Jack to bed. It turned out to be a trial what with the party in full swing just below the boy’s bedroom window.

“Dad, can I stay up just a little longer? Please?”

“C’mon buddy, it’s already way past your bedtime.” Hotch gently pulled his son away from the window and directed him to bed.

“But everybody’s still here!”

“Grown-ups have different bedtimes, you know that.”

“S’not fair.” Jack pouted and slumped under the covers dramatically.

“You won’t always be young, Jack. Someday you’ll be able to stay up late at parties too.”

Jack rolled to face his father, his exclusion suddenly forgotten in favor of a new topic. “Why isn’t Spencer here? He never comes by anymore.”

“He’s a busy guy, Jack.” Hotch’s voice sounded weak.

“Doesn’t he like us anymore?” Jack asked. “I liked it when he came by. He knew everything about all of my dinosaurs…”

“He likes you, son - I’m sure that he would have come if he was able.”

_Actually, I’m not sure of that at all. I’m not sure that he can stand breathing the same air as me._

“Maybe we could ask him over for mac and cheese again. He likes cheese.” Jack suggested.

Hotch smiled and ran his fingers through his son’s hair. “That’s a nice idea. I’ll ask him, okay? But now it’s time for bed.”

He turned out the light and kissed Jack lightly. “And no peeking through the window… I’ll be watching.”

“Okay, Dad. G’night.” He huffed.

Hotch walked away and tried not to think of his son’s question: _doesn’t he like us anymore?_


	8. Occupying the Same Space

With Jack safely in bed, Hotch returned to the party determined to get mostly drunk. He wandered through his house and turned the corner of his kitchen to retrieve a beer when he ran into Rossi with his arm around Reid.

“Hey, there he is! Hotch, look who I found…” Rossi swayed slightly as he shoved Reid in Hotch’s direction. “See? I told ya he’d show.”

Hotch felt his cheeks redden and tamped down the urge to cuff his loudmouthed friend. Reid looked similarly embarrassed. He straightened his sweater and then leaned against the counter safely out of Rossi’s way to avoid further manhandling. Hotch ducked into the fridge and produced a beer.

“Hey. Would you like one? As you can see, you have some catching up to do.”

“Um, got any red wine instead?”

“Sure. Hold on…”

Hotch fumbled around for a wine glass in his cupboards trying to buy time to think up some brilliant way to get Reid talking. He located a glass, poured some wine and then stood silently praying for salvation. Instead, Rossi chose that moment to abandoned him.

“You two…” He waved dismissively. “I’m not gonna stand around and watch you guys stare each other down all evening. There are pretty women here tonight who are more entertaining to look at…” Rossi weaved out into the back yard through the kitchen door without another word.

“Wow. He’s really…”

“Blasted. Tanked. Ripped. Wasted. Wrecked.” Hotch offered. “Yeah, he’s been here a while and he was basting the pork roast in whiskey for hours.”

“Oh, that reminds me…” Reid produced a bag from somewhere behind him and shoved it at Hotch. The older man looked inside and was impressed.

“This is a very expensive bottle of scotch, Reid.”

“I know it’s your favorite.” He said while looking out into the back yard. “You’ve worked really hard over the last 2 months - you deserve to get your title back.”

“Thanks.” Hotch said quietly placing the bottle on the counter between them. “It’s not really what I wanted.”

Reid looked at him then. “What do you mean? You were so concerned about losing everything… but now you’re back, and better, and everything is going back to normal.”

“But that’s not what I wanted.”

“I don’t understand.” Reid looked confused.

Hotch took a large swig of his beer and sighed. “It’s time to start wanting what you have.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s what my therapist told me during our first session.”

Hotch knew that Reid didn’t want to hear about his recovery, but what else was there to talk about? It was the genesis of the new life that he was trying to build - a life that Reid had tried to help him find. He needed to tell him how it had worked out. He needed to tell him how much his help _mattered_. 

“I’d spent so much time looking backwards, trying to analyze where I lost control… where I left my family unprotected so that Foyet could find his way in. It became an obsession. But there’s nothing that you can do about the past: Haley’s still dead and Jack’s still motherless. I began to see that control was just an illusion.”

“You’re the most controlled individual that I’ve ever met.” Reid said quietly.

“But that’s just it: I’m not. And you know that - you’ve _seen_ it. You might be the only person besides Haley and Jack who has.”

Hotch looked at Reid and the young man began to fidget. He walked across the kitchen and leaned against the picture window that looked out onto the yard with his arms crossed. The light was dimmer there and Hotch wondered if he was trying to hide.

“So, what are you saying? You were losing control and didn’t want what you had so you decided to kill yourself? Is that it?”

“I never wanted to kill myself!”

“The bullet removed from your chest says otherwise.” Reid’s voice was tight and angry.

All this time Hotch assumed that Reid was angry that he had put his life at risk, and that, perhaps, Hotch had just used him to maintain his position at the Bureau. But if Reid was angry because he saw the Stussman attack as some sort of suicide attempt - that he had nothing worth living for despite Reid’s help - that was another story entirely. Anger flared in Hotch: how was it possible for Reid to misread him so completely?

“What makes you think that I would do that to Jack?” Hotch spat. “What makes you think that I would do that to _you_?”

Reid straightened and walked briskly past him and down the hall towards the front door.  
 _No, you don’t!_ , Hotch thought as he followed him and grabbed him by the arm to face him.

“ _Why_ do you do that? _Why_ do you always assume the least about yourself, and the worst about me?”

“What am I assuming, Hotch?” Reid got up in Hotch’s face despite being pinned by him. “You needed my help and you got it. When things went pear-shaped, I wasn’t useful anymore. Why do you insist on suggesting that you gave a damn about what I felt or thought? If you had, you would have sought out therapy when I brought it up in the first place instead of dragging me down the rabbit hole with you.”

“I give a damn about what you think and feel because I give a damn about _you_ , Spencer!” Hotch was trying to keep his voice low but couldn’t manage to drain it of frustration. “Do you only see me as some sort of usurious bully?”

Reid looked down pointedly to where Hotch held his arm. Hotch released him and backed away a few steps, raising his hands and sighing wearily. 

“Have you forgotten that night you told Jack that he could explode monsters with his mind? Have you forgotten what we were doing _before_ that? What did you think I was trying to accomplish there?”

“I believe that you said at the time that you had no idea what you were doing.” Reid hissed.

Hotch remembered and winced internally; he had said that. But doubts about himself had motivated it, not doubts about Reid. He had to make him see that distinction.

“I had never kissed a man before. I’ve never been attracted to a man before you. I couldn’t believe that you were kissing me back… I wasn’t even sure that you were gay…”

“I’m not.” Reid murmured.

“What?”

“I’m not gay. I’ve had relationships with women and men. I don’t consider myself locked into one preference.”

Reid’s nonchalance took the wind out of Hotch’s sails. Maybe it hadn’t meant much to Reid after all. It had meant a lot to Hotch. He sagged a little feeling foolish and old all over again. A tremendous wave of loneliness crashed into him and made the seam above his heart ache.

“I’m a fool.” He said quietly.

“Pardon?”

“I thought that you felt something for me… something more than friendship… and that you were giving me a hard time since I got back because you thought that I was indifferent or using you in some way…” Hotch couldn’t stop the flurry of words. It didn’t seem to matter anymore if Reid thought he sounded ridiculous. 

“But I wasn’t using you… I wasn’t. I couldn’t - you have to know that. I felt… I _feel_ something for you. It helped me get through everything: the 3 month leave and the 2 months of proving myself afterwards. It’s about wanting what you have, like my therapist said… I didn’t even know what was right in front of me. And now I want it _so badly_ , but I’m just a foolish guy with baggage…”

“Hotch-” Reid stepped forward but Hotch backed away and shook his head.

“I’m sorry… for embarrassing you. You were really there for me - you need to know how much that meant regardless of this… mess that I’ve made-”

Reid reached out and pulled Hotch into him stopping his endless confession with a kiss. Hotch froze and then wrapped his arms around the younger man, holding him tightly. Reid drew in his lower lip and invited his tongue to follow. He cupped the back of Hotch’s head and angled him closer as Hotch moaned softly against him. The sound of their mouths parting and rejoining was a quiet counterpoint to the raucous noise of their colleagues behind them in the back yard. Hotch’s hands rose and held Reid’s face as he pulled away and asked a question with his eyes.

Reid sighed and looked away. “I know what you want, but you see why we _can’t_ , don’t you?”

Hotch continued to stare as he ran his thumb along Reid’s jaw; he needed a shave.

“I mean, look at how many misunderstandings we’ve had in the last 5 months? It shouldn’t be like that. Like you said: I assume the least about me and the worst about you. We’re just too… cagey about protecting ourselves to be… _ourselves_ with one another.”

Hotch sighed, closed his eyes and leaned his head into Reid. He nodded silently; Reid wasn’t wrong.

“What are you going to do?” Reid’s voice seemed small against the festive sounds just beyond them.

“I don’t know. I’ll figure out a way through this.” Hotch’s smile was sad. “I’m a grown-up after all…”

“I’m sorry, Aaron.” Reid whispered and quickly kissed him on the cheek before backing away towards the front door.

“There’s no reason to be sorry.”

“Well, I am anyway.” Reid stood framed in the door for a moment and then closed it behind him.

Hotch walked to the door, spread his hands along its surface, and then softly knocked his forehead against it. He leaned his whole body into the frame as the pain leaking from the seam above his heart radiated out through his torso. His fingers curled digging his nails into the paint on the door as he shut his eyes and opened his mouth in a silent scream. 

_I guess we’re back to wanting things that we can’t have, huh?_

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh Hotch, leave those things. A guest of honor doesn’t clean up after his own party. I’ll come by tomorrow and take care of this.” Garcia glowed with success and inebriation.

“That’s not necessary, Penelope. I can manage.” Hotch smiled at her and continued collecting dead soldiers from his back yard.

“You called me Penelope…” Garcia looked stunned.

“You did something kind and generous for me in throwing this party… and we’re not at work… do you mind?”

“Absolutely not, but you’re like the Commander Adama of our little Battlestar Galactica and it’s a little weird for a lowly officer to be addressed so… warmly.”

Hotch put the beer bottles down and walked over to Garcia. He held her gently by the shoulders and smiled - she really was quite drunk. 

“First of all, I have no idea what any of that means. Secondly, I’m not made of stone - the past 5 months have proven that. And you aren’t some lowly officer, Penelope; you’re the beating heart of this unit. You’re our mama bird, our cyber ninja, and our joyous love of life externalized in an endless array of amazing dress and shoe combinations.”

“Oh,” Garcia blinked back a few tears and placed a hand to her chest. “I always thought that you disapproved of my fashion choices…”

“How could I?” Hotch chuckled. “I couldn’t imagine you any other way.”

Garcia hugged him suddenly and fiercely. “Oh Captain, my Captain! We missed you so much…”

Hotch hugged her back and swallowed down the feelings that were bubbling up inside him. He loved the members of his team like a family but had always kept them at arms length. He never realized how successful he had been at isolating himself until he let his guard down a little. Garcia, Rossi, Morgan… they all appeared to care for him deeply but were hesitant to show him. If they knew how much their affection touched him… well, he guessed that it was up to him to let them know that now.

Garcia backed away and smiled as she dabbed at her mascara. “Don’t get me wrong; we all love Morgan… some of us more inappropriately than others…”

Hotch smirked at her.

“But we _need_ you, ya know? We all felt the loss while you were gone… especially Reid. Poor baby wasn’t right at all…”

“What do you mean?”

Garcia stared into his eyes and grabbed him by the shoulder. “I’m only going to say this to you because a) we are having a little moment right now, and b) I am fully confident that I won’t remember much of this conversation tomorrow.”

“Okay…” Hotch nodded.

“Look, I’m just gonna say it - that boy loves you. It broke my heart to watch him carry on like there wasn’t a huge hole straight through the middle of him when you left…”

All of the breath went out of Hotch and he just stared at Garcia.

“Poor Junior G-Man, he put up a really good front but he didn’t fool me. I can’t believe that he wasn’t here tonight…”

“He was.” Hotch whispered. “He couldn’t stay.”

Garcia looked up at him and her face opened up as if she had just seen something for the first time. “Oh… Hotch. Listen to me… that boy has a lot self-made _stuff_ rolling around in his impressive noodle and sometimes it gets in his way… it gets in the way of doing what would be good for him. I swear, there _is_ such a thing as being too smart for your own good…”

She grabbed his other shoulder and pulled him in, giving him a very serious look. “Don’t let him get away with that.”

“Garcia?”

“Yes?”

“You are very drunk.”

“Oh, I know,” She waved her hand lightly. “But I’m also right.”

Hotch stared for a moment and then leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. He heard her breathe in suddenly and smiled. “I’m going to go call you a cab, Penelope.”

As he walked towards the kitchen door, she called out to him. He turned and saw her smiling at him. “You know, you _totally_ are Commander Adama. He was strong but he also loved his people deeply.”

He shook his head and went inside the house. “I still don’t know what that means.”


	9. Try

The cab pulled away with Garcia safely inside. Hotch waved once as it disappeared around the corner and then wandered back towards the house. He was exhausted; it had been a long and unexpected evening. He tried to think of nothing because it seemed the safest, least energetic course, but it didn’t last long. Despite his assurances to Garcia, he had no clue how he was going to dispose of the half pig carcass left in his back yard.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement from the far side of the lawn. He squinted and made out a silhouette under a brace of trees at the edge of his property. A spike of adrenalin ran through him and he was completely awake. His hand automatically went for his holster that was locked in his gun safe in his bedroom. He cursed under his breath and inventoried his remaining weapon options. _Baseball bat_ , he thought, _just inside the front door with Jack’s peewee gear…_

He retrieved the bat and moved quickly along the outer edge of the lawn. Trying to use the long shadows made by the house lights to his advantage, he jogged down towards the brace of trees in the dip that his property made before it met the street. The silhouette was sitting, with his back to Hotch and the house. Hotch crept closer and raised his bat over his shoulder to swing. He stepped on a fallen branch, snapping it, and the silhouette turned as he was about to strike. Hands flew into the air.

“Whoa! WHOA! Hotch, it’s me!”

Hotch pulled his swing at the last second as the silhouette ducked in defense. “Reid? Jesus! I almost canoed your head!”

“I know!” Reid gasped.

“Well… dammit…” Hotch was trying to shake off another adrenalin surge. He gestured with the bat. “What are you _doing_ here? I thought that you left hours ago.”

“I did. This is as far as I got.”

The two men stared at each other. It was late and the only sounds around them were the soft susurrus of the trees and their own labored breathing. Eventually, Hotch tossed the bat onto the lawn and sat down beside Reid under the trees.

“So, what are we thinking about down here?” He asked.

“How to let go, I guess.” Reid murmured. “Mostly I was just feeling sorry for myself.”

“I’ve been doing a little of that for the past few weeks… How’s it working out for you?”

“About how you’d expect.” Reid made a face as he spoke and Hotch smiled in response.

“I know the reasons why we shouldn’t,” Hotch murmured suddenly. “I just wish that I had more to show for this awful sense of loss that I’m feeling.”

“Aaron, you’re not making this any easier…”

“Why should giving up be easy?” Hotch leaned forward. “Do you know what sort of conversations I’ve been having with myself in my head about this? A conservative, middle-aged widower suddenly falling for a younger colleague who also happens to be a man? I feel like a mid-life crisis cliché. Do you know what it feels like to beat yourself up over something like this but can’t let it go because someone has upended your life?”

“Yes. I do.” Reid whispered.

Hotch took a deep breath and placed his hand over Reid’s in the grass. “Then let’s not sink this thing before we’ve even tried it. If it’s a bad idea, let’s find out the traditional way: experience.”

Reid remained still and looked down at their linked hands. Hotch moved a little closer and brushed the side of Reid’s face with his other hand. 

“Spencer…”

Reid looked up. “Yeah?”

“Have dinner with me. Saturday night, here. I’ll cook… I’m a good cook.”

“I know.”

Hotch blushed. _Of course he knows - he used to eat here all the time._

“Have dinner with me and… we’ll just see, okay? It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

Reid stared for a long time before closing his eyes and nodding. “Okay, dinner.”

“Thank you.” Hotch couldn’t repress the happiness in his voice. “Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“One more thing: may I kiss you goodnight?”

Hotch saw one side of Reid’s mouth quirk upwards: flattered. “Sure.”

He leaned in and gave him a chaste, lingering kiss while stroking the side of Reid’s face. As he pulled away, he felt Reid squeeze his hand and then the younger man rose to his feet.

“I’ll see you Saturday.” Reid looked down at him, his features lost in the shadows of the trees.

Hotch watched Reid walk across the lawn and up the street to his car. He sat under the trees until the car had pulled away and turned the corner out of sight. He sighed and let the giddiness that he’d been fighting back flood over him. He had a date for Saturday night - a _first_ date; he hadn’t had one of those in nearly 30 years.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The doorbell rang and Hotch had to stop himself from running to answer it. It wouldn’t do to look all breathless and eager when he opened the door, despite the fact that that was _exactly_ how he felt about it. 

“Hi.” Reid waved awkwardly.

_I wonder if he feels inappropriate in every situation that he finds myself in…_

“Hi.” Hotch smiled and let him in.

Reid stood in the hallway and listened for a moment, then turned to Hotch. “Where’s Jack?”

“Oh. He’s sleeping over at his aunt’s tonight.”

_I want you to myself… no matter what comes of this…_

“Ah. Too bad - I was looking forward to seeing him.”

“You can come over anytime to see him. You’re always welcome.”

_Too eager. Calm down._

Reid smiled and handed Hotch the bottle of wine he was carrying.

“Oh thanks.” Hotch strode towards the kitchen and waved for Reid to follow. “Let’s open this. Dinner’s almost ready… just a few things left to do…”

Reid leaned against the counter with a glass of wine and watched Hotch while he finished making dinner. Hotch found the casual line of his body very distracting. Reid was dressed in dark blues and greys, making him appear taller and lankier than normal. While Reid was illuminating some topic of conversation, Hotch got lost in the shape of the younger man’s fingers and how they held the base of his wine glass.

_Focus, dammit, or you’re going to chop something off or burn something vital. An ER visit is not an appropriate end to a first date._

Finally, with dinner safely plated, Hotch settled into watching Reid being, well, _Reid_. He was going on about some monograph that he was asked to write for the American Journal of Psychiatry about the correlation between certain sociopathic tendencies and Asperger’s Syndrome when he stopped in mid sentence and sipped at his wine self-consciously.

“What’s the matter?” Hotch asked.

“I’m babbling. You don’t really care about this - your mind is somewhere else.”

“You’re _not_ babbling, I _am_ interested in your thesis, which by the way, I think has the potential to get you into a lot of hot water with the APA, and… okay, yes, my mind _was_ in two places at once. I can manage that - I’ve been told that I’m quite smart.”

“Well, _that’s_ certainly true.” Reid looked away and sipped his wine again. “What else were you thinking?”

Hotch fretted the edge of his discarded napkin. “I was thinking that you look especially good tonight, and I was reminding myself not to get mesmerized by your hands when you talk even though I find that fascinating.”

“Gestural communication is directly related to spatial cogitation; my eidetic memory forces me to organize information as I receive it - in 3 dimensions. It would be considerably harder for me to express myself without my hands.” Reid apologized.

“I know that, Spencer. That doesn’t mean that it’s not amazing to watch…”

“Oh.” Reid blushed.

“You don’t take compliments very well, do you?” Hotch said gently.

“It’s not something that I have a lot of experience with.”

“But… how do I put this…” Hotch paused and then decided just to be blunt. “You’ve had lovers. Lovers compliment one another - it’s sort of a basic requirement of seduction.”

“Is that what this is? An attempt at seduction?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘an attempt’.” Hotch smiled. “But I guess that I’m also curious about your past.”

_Now he’ll either tell you about himself or tell you to mind your own business._

“Tell me what you want to know.” Reid’s face was unreadable.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Reid leaned back in his chair and pushed away from the table.

_Oh, shit. That was it? That was the line in the sand?_

“Once.” He said quietly. “I fell for one of my professors in college when I was a doctoral candidate.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I was 20 and she was 38. She took me under her wing, showed me how to socially navigate academia… she treated me like a promising graduate, not an intellectual freak or a commodity to further the college’s reputation.”

Hotch nodded in understanding. “She treated you with respect, as a whole person.”

“Yeah. Sometimes we just hung out and did nothing. She seemed to like me. I thought… I thought that _this_ must be what it feels like to have friends… to be connected to other people that you care about. I became… intoxicated by it.”

“What happened to her?”

“I heard that she got married a few years ago. She adopted a little girl. She still sends me a card every Christmas…”

The seam above Hotch’s heart ached momentarily. How was it possible that Reid had never felt loved in his entire life? He rubbed his chest and forced himself to ask the question that he was really curious about.

“You said… that you’ve had relationships with men and women. You didn’t love any of them?”

“That was lust, Hotch. A biological need. I learned a long time ago that it’s best to be clear about that and not confuse the two.”

Hotch felt rebuffed. He had never indulged in a relationship just to satisfy a physical urge. There was always a romantic component. But then again, with the exception of a brief period in his junior year of college, he had always been with Haley. He felt overwhelmingly under experienced. 

“So what is this then? Lust or something else?”

Reid looked at him for a long time before answering. “I honestly don’t know.”

Hotch sighed and then rose abruptly to clear away the plates. He heard Reid’s chair push back as the younger man followed him into the kitchen. Hotch placed the plates in the sink and made as if he was tiding up when he felt Reid stand behind him, heat tickling up his spine. Reid’s hands landed lightly on his sides just above his hips and he felt the man’s breath along the back of his neck as he spoke.

“Aaron, I want you, but that’s not all I feel. I don’t know what to call this.”

Hotch squeezed his eyes shut and thought about what Rossi and Garcia had told him: _“he loves you, but it’s a hard kind of love… don’t let him get away with that…”_

“I’m just a guy who never had much experience outside his own marriage, but… I’d call it love. When you worry for someone, when the thought of their happiness is more important than your own, when their emotions _become_ yours, when you think of them and realize that you don’t want anything else… _that’s_ love, whether you’re comfortable with it or not.”

Hotch turned to face Reid. There, he had drawn _his_ line in the sand. 

“That’s how I feel. And I won’t stand to hear you denigrate yourself anymore because that hurts me. There’s nothing about you that I find unattractive and, though you seem incapable of seeing yourself that way, I assure you that many other people do as well. Yes, I desire you, but I am also taken by what a remarkable man you’ve become. You’re generous, loving, strong, resourceful… and, yes, stubborn, peevish, and a little bit blind. And I’m selfish because I want all of that for myself, not to augment myself in any way, but because without it I’ve discovered that I’m only half a person, and not a pretty half at that.”

Reid and Hotch stared each other down, their breath grazing each other’s faces.

“If you can’t handle that, you should leave. Right now.” Hotch felt brutal saying it.

The staring continued but neither man made a move. Reid swallowed hard and then spoke.

“Wow. That was… quite a speech.”

“I guess.” Hotch blushed. “I meant every word though.”

“So, it’s love or nothing.”

“That’s what I’m offering, yes.”

“Well then…” 

Reid pulled Hotch in for a kiss. He pushed his pelvis against Hotch and pinned him to the counter top as his hand clasped the other man’s jaw to draw him closer. Hotch shifted, opening his mouth and moaning as his tongue brushed Reid’s. One of his hands threaded through Reid’s hair and kept him from pulling away. Reid moved his mouth lower and sucked in Hotch’s lower lip, biting down. Hotch jumped a little and then kissed him more roughly in return, parting from his lips in harsh gasps. 

Their lips traded positions, always searching for a better angle - a more satisfying penetration. Their hands began to roam over shoulders, down backs, behind and on top and through one another. Reid broke away first, darting for a sensitive expanse of skin below the jaw line. He grazed it with his teeth and then sucked the pulse point until Hotch moaned. He felt Reid smile against his neck and then again as the younger man pushed his pelvis forward. It was a question, and Hotch pushed them both away from the counter and dragged them from the kitchen.

They made it to the staircase before Reid stopped their progress and went after Hotch’s mouth again. Hotch tried to lead them up the stairs but Reid shoved him against the wall only 3 stairs from the landing. He began doing something exceptionally distracting to Hotch’s ear while his hands started fumbling at Hotch’s belt.

 _I am not having sex on these stairs_ , Hotch thought emphatically and took matters into his own hands. He broke away from Reid’s grip and dipped his head into the younger man’s neck. He bit down hard and forced him tightly against his chest. Reid twitched and then softened in Hotch’s arms until he let out a long low moan into Hotch’s hair. 

Hotch seized the moment and let the man go, heading up the stairs to put distance between them. He looked back at Reid’s shocked expression and gave him a teasing glance before he nodded his head towards the top of the stairs and then disappeared in that direction. Hotch heard the quick thumping of Reid’s feet on the staircase and smiled to himself. As he reached the bedroom doorway, he turned and waited as he kicked off his shoes and removed his socks. Reid turned the corner of the staircase, saw Hotch and gave him a playful glower. He likewise removed his footwear and then had Hotch pinned up against the doorframe.

Reid skimmed Hotch’s neck and then stopped suddenly.

“Your pulse is racing…”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Hotch kissed him.

“Just want to make sure that it’s anticipation and not nerves.”

“I’m about to have sex with a man for the first time.” Hotch gasped and then kissed Reid’s neck. “I think it’s safe to say that it’s both.”

Reid pulled away and held Hotch’s face steady in his hands. “I want you to know that we aren’t doing anything that you don’t agree to. If you get uncomfortable for any reason, just say so and I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

“Yes, and thank you. Now, can we get naked please?”

“You’re the boss.” Reid husked as he pulled at Hotch’s shirt.

Reid didn’t mess around when it came to undressing. After a brief struggle with Hotch’s cuffs, he gave him a look that said ‘deal with that’ and then quickly shrugged out of his own sweater and dress shirt. Hotch discarded his shirt to the floor and realized that this was the first time a lover would see his scars. He brushed his hands self-consciously across his abdomen before walking forward and busying them with Reid’s belt. Hotch successfully negotiated the pants, and Reid obligingly stepped out of them as his hands simultaneously stroked the ridges of Hotch’s scars. Hotch breathed in suddenly and Reid stilled himself.

“Are they sensitive?” He whispered.

“Quite the opposite actually, I just wasn’t prepared for you to touch them.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you find them… gruesome?”

“No.” Reid shook his head and kissed Hotch’s neck gently. “I have a fondness for imperfections.”

With that, Reid bent down and kissed the largest of Foyet’s scars. It felt strange at first but as Reid spent more time tracing them with his lips and tongue and breath, Hotch came to like the warmth that he felt, and the coolness afterwards. Reid’s hands went to Hotch’s belt as his mouth worked the man’s abdomen. Soon, he slid the pants down and then brushed his hand across Hotch’s briefs. Hotch twitched and Reid looked up to gauge his reaction. Perhaps he didn’t like what he saw, as he stood and quickly removed his last article of clothing. He stood under Hotch’s gaze and then nodded in his direction.

“Take them off.” He said calmly.

Hotch did as he was told and was relieved that he wasn’t suffering from some sort of middle-aged performance anxiety. God knows that he was _anxious_. Reid pushed himself against Hotch and stroked the line of his torso from shoulder blade to thigh. He pushed in closer and moaned against Hotch’s shoulder.

“You feel good against me.”

Hotch was too breathless to respond. Who knew that just having a naked body pressed against you would be enough to qualify as bliss? He breathed into Reid’s hair, unsure of what to do next. Reid went down on his knees again, his hands brushing the scar tissue idly. He looked up at Hotch and then lightly traced a fingertip in between Hotch’s thighs. Hotch surprised himself by letting out a loud moan; this might be over sooner than he thought at this rate. As he was trying to collect his thoughts, he felt warmth circle him. He looked down and watched as Reid took him into his mouth and slowly began to suck. Hotch’s knees began to shake and he found it impossible to look away from the scruffy head that was moving languorously against him. But it was the noises that nearly did him in. The quiet sucking coupled with his own erratic breathing… and then Reid started to moan a little.

Hotch closed his eyes, placing his hands on Reid’s shoulders, and pushed away. “No…”

Reid stopped immediately and looked up, concern washing over him. “Aaron? What did I do?”

“No, I mean… nothing. That’s just not… how I want to do this…”

Reid looked confused and hurt. Hotch quickly went to the bedside table and retrieved some things from it. He presented them to Reid and the young man’s concern melted into sudden understanding.

“Oh, I see. Someone’s been Googling…”

Reid rose to his feet and kissed Hotch. He pulled away and smiled, handing him a condom. “Put this on.”

Hotch shook his head quickly. “No, they’re for you.”

Reid froze for a moment and looked lost. “Aaron… I don’t think that you want this. The first time… well, it can hurt…”

“I am aware of that, but this is what I want. I want to experience it _this way_ … I’ve never thought about a different scenario for my first time.”

“Really?” Reid seemed genuinely shocked. “Listen… I don’t want your first time to have… negative connotations. I really don’t like the idea of causing you pain.”

“Please, Spencer…” He folded the condom back into Reid’s hand.

Reid sighed. “Okay, but here are the rules: the _moment_ that you feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable, you tell me so. And you don’t just… go along with it because you’re worried about my reaction, okay?”

Hotch nodded and kissed Reid in thanks. Reid kissed him back, hard. He pushed him up to the edge of the bed and then pulled away, stroking his side again with his fingers.

“You should get on the bed, on your hands and knees.”

Hotch did as he was instructed, his heart in his throat. He felt the bed sink behind him as Reid’s weight was added to it. There was a breathless moment of nothing and then Hotch felt Reid’s tongue outlining him, culminating in a wet kiss on his coccyx. Hotch shivered but felt the unexpected sensation pleasurable. Reid’s tongue dipped again but this time slipped inside him just a fraction. Hotch sighed and Reid repeated the process going a little further with each pass. He lightly stroked Hotch as he continued with his tongue until Hotch was moaning with every gesture.

Suddenly, Reid’s hands and mouth disappeared. Hotch made a questioning noise and a warm palm landed on the small of his back.

“I’m going to use my fingers now.”

Hotch nodded and gasped as he felt a new wetness outline him.

“Its just lubricant.” Reid whispered.

Hotch felt a hand cup his balls that sent a jolt straight through him. He tried to push back against it but Reid stopped him.

“It’s best to stay still for now.”

Reid continued stroking him until his head dropped low between his shoulders in pleasure, then he felt something circle him. Hotch held his breath and waited until the fingertip dipped into him. The sensation was strange but his body didn’t rebel until Reid pushed almost completely inside. Hotch’s body clamped down, and Reid stilled his finger.

“It’s okay - that’s supposed to happen.”

After a moment, Hotch relaxed and Reid slowly pulsed his finger back and forth. The sensation was totally alien but Hotch became hypnotized by the rhythm and the pressure. In time, Reid added a second finger; more pressure, more whispered assurances. The younger man bent over Hotch’s back and left kisses along his spine as he added another finger and stretched. Pain flared within Hotch and he gasped, his head shooting upwards. Reid stilled his hand.

“You okay? Should I stop?”

“No. Keep going.”

Reid started again tentatively and when Hotch relaxed against him, he curved his fingers and applied a pressure that sent another bolt straight through him from groin to the base of his skull.

“Fuck!” He mumbled.

“Still okay?”

Hotch nodded though he wasn’t sure. There was pain but there was also something that he had never quite felt before. His body wanted to move, to try and get a little more of it, but he was afraid to shift and perhaps end the whole thing. He moaned as Reid pushed in deeper, and he felt himself being stroked again. He was starting to feel better and greedier with every passing moment. He began to call out Reid’s name. 

“What is it, Aaron?”

“M-more…”

“Are you sure?” He felt Reid’s breath across his back, the heat of his body tracing up and over him. Hotch nodded again and pushed back against Reid to confirm his answer.

Reid’s hands disappeared. A moment passed as Hotch throbbed and waited and wondered. Then lips brushed across his back again, teeth scored him teasingly and Reid whispered his name into his skin as he curved his body over Hotch’s.

“Gonna do this slowly. If you call out, I’ll stop, okay?”

Hotch nodded again and gasped as he felt a pressure push from behind. It wasn’t much more than before and he quickly pushed back to signal that he was okay. Reid made a bigger move, his hands digging into Hotch’s hips until he hissed and his whole body clamped down against the shocks of pain that lit up his edges.

“Aaron,” Reid gritted out as he stilled himself. “Talk to me…”

“Hold it… just…”

They held each other listening to their breath. Reid placed a few light kisses across Hotch’s back and he had the realization that this man was _inside_ him, as close as anyone would ever get. The thought sent a surge of arousal through him that he could feel at all of his pulse points. He wanted Reid. Every last inch of him. He pushed back against him and moaned out Reid’s name in a way that he had never heard before. Reid gasped above him.

“I want you.” Hotch said.

Reid made a final push and allowed Hotch to adjust. Then he began to pump slowly, his breath matching Hotch’s. Hotch felt a growing sensation starting at the base of his spine and radiating out and up; a fire that was destroying as it warmed, consuming as it grew. Pressure started to press down his legs and up along his back, his whole body started to shake from it. The sparks that had been intermittent before now lit up with every thrust; an exquisite moment of clarity that made the fire following it more addictive. 

Reid sped up, his own moans matching Hotch’s. Their bodies were slick where they connected, making every combined movement a greater challenge to control. Hotch pushed back suddenly, throwing off their rhythm and creating the best combination of pain and fire yet. He called out Reid’s name loudly as one of his arms gave out and sent him face first into the bed sheets. 

“Okay?” Reid could barely speak. “Coming to a point… where I-I can’t stop…”

Hotch arched his back making them both moan at the new, unexpected angle. He nodded into the sheets violently, well past the point of coherent speech. The fire was banking - the static stage before it either died down or tapped some hidden incendiary and flared higher that it ever had before. Reid was now in a frenzy, his hips shifting and canting in a different direction with every thrust trying to find that extra… moment? millimeter? … whatever drives a person past their limits to the unknown just beyond them. He reached down and grabbed Hotch unceremoniously, his hands rough and careless with need. Hotch cried out and before Reid could ask he came as the young man brutally manhandled him. Hotch shuddered as his whole body seized. Above him Reid crashed into him and bit down on Hotch’s shoulder causing them both to cry out. He rode his high out to the bitter end with Hotch gasping into the sheets, then he lay across the other man’s back until Hotch’s knees gave way and the collapsed into the mattress.

They lay still, breathing hard for a long time. Slowly Reid turned his face towards Hotch and mumbled something.

“What?” Hotch croaked.

“You okay?”

Hotch turned his face into the mattress and began to laugh. His whole body started to vibrate with it and it wasn’t until he felt Reid’s hands tentatively rub his back that he considered his reaction might be misinterpreted. He turned his head towards Reid again and sure enough, the man looked worried.

“I’m 45 years old and I have never had an orgasm like that.” He smiled. “Yeah, I think I’m okay.”

Reid’s face relaxed and he let his head sink into the bed. “Jesus, you had me scared there for a moment.”

“Are _you_ okay?” Hotch couldn’t hide his amusement at Reid’s drained condition. It was sort of flattering.

“I’m fucking awesome. Thanks for asking.” Reid sighed.

Hotch laughed out loud, which caused Reid to look at him wearily. “What?”

“I’ve never heard you swear before. Ever. It’s slightly disturbing, really.”

“It was more of a descriptor than a cuss. I only break it out for special occasions. For example: you’ve made me feel fabulous and therefore are worthy of purple congratulations.”

Hotch laughed again. In fact, he felt giddy. _Oh, endorphins, you cheeky devils…_

“I’m pleased to be worth a 4 letter reaction.”

“Damn right you are.” Reid smirked.

“Stop it. Now you’re just buttering me up.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” Reid leaned in closer. “I’m going to save my ‘4 letter reactions’ for you. To everyone else, I’ll be pure as the driven snow.”

Hotch smiled and gave him a soft kiss. There was something remarkable about lying next to him having this silly conversation. It somehow felt like… everything.

“It’s a deal, you deviant.”


	10. Want or Need? Same Difference

LATER

Reid was standing at the sink when Hotch walked into the men’s room. The older agent moved around the room slowly checking every stall, aware that the other man’s eyes tracked his every move. When he was done, he walked over to the bank of sinks, smiled congenially, and washed his hands. He could almost feel Reid’s curiosity at his behavior radiating at him through the bathroom mirror.

“You know that there’s a briefing in 10 minutes…”

“Yes…” Reid answered cautiously.

“Good.” 

Hotch smiled again, dried his hands, and then turned and pinned Reid to the wall beside the sinks. His hands flirted with the edges of the other man’s jaw and neck as he kissed him slowly and deeply. Reid smiled against his lips and when Hotch pulled away, he began to laugh softly.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, there are few things more gay-man-cliché than making out in the men’s room.”

“This is where it all started.”

“So now you’re a sentimentalist? I wouldn’t have thought that you were the type, Aaron.”

Hotch silenced Reid’s chuckle with another kiss. This time the other man drew him in equally and made a small noise of disappointment when he broke away. Hotch skimmed Reid’s neck with his lips.

“I missed you this morning.”

“I have the Reinhardt trial in 2 days.” Reid whispered as he dug his fingers into Hotch’s suit jacket. “I had to go home and prep a little. Between playing Battleship with Jack and dealing with your ‘4 letter reaction’ to losing, I didn’t have a lot of time last night.”

“Hmmm,” Hotch nipped at Reid’s ear. “Coming over tonight?”

Reid nodded and caught Hotch’s lips again.

“I wish that you’d stop being so stubborn and move in with us. You spend most nights there anyway…”

Reid pulled away a little. “We talked about this: it would change everything.”

“For the better.” Hotch whispered and stroked the side of Reid’s face. “I have no hesitations about this. You are a part of my family, Spencer, and I want to have you close.”

Reid opened his mouth to say something but Hotch decided to invoke his bullying clause and steamrolled over him.

“I was planning on renovating in the spring. I’m thinking that I can put an addition off the kitchen… I can build you a study. We can Jack-proof it so that you’ll actually have a space of your own for your projects and research… Morgan has been helping me draw up the plans.”

Reid’s face melted into a shocked expression. He closed his mouth and tried to glance away from Hotch’s stare. When his eyes briefly met Hotch’s, the older man thought that he saw tears.

“Listen,” Hotch whispered and leaned his forehead into Reid’s. “It’s up to you. We’ll do this at your speed. I… I just never get tired of having you around. You make me feel great whenever you’re there, so I want you with me all the time. This is what I want: more of what we have. It’s that simple.”

Hotch smiled and hoped that he sounded non-threatening and convincing. He didn’t want to beg the young man to solidify their relationship, but he would if absolutely necessary. Reid had an affect on him that could move him to do things that he would never do for anyone else. Because Reid had never leveraged this to his own advantage, Hotch refused to call it desperation. Reid kissed him quickly.

“I love you, Aaron. I absolutely fucking love you.”

Hotch laughed and pulled Reid’s head into his shoulder. He breathed in the scent of the younger man’s hair and gave his stomach permission to do cartwheels.

“A ‘4 letter reaction’. That’s good… that’s good.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MUCH LATER

 

Reid scanned the crowd of faces until he found the one that he was searching for. Jack plowed through the group of excited school children, his overloaded backpack bouncing as he ran threatening to topple him at any moment. He yelled as he ran past the pick-up monitor and bounced up, scaling Reid like a crazed spider monkey.

“Hey buddy? How are you doing?” Reid huffed as he tried to juggle the boy and his book bag.

“Today we learned about earthworms. Did you know that earthworms have _5 hearts and no lungs_?”

“That’s cool. You know what-”

“Put the child down please, sir.”

“Excuse me?” Reid turned and saw the pick-up monitor pointing at Jack.

“Who are you?” The monitor approached them and tried to look intimidating, which was difficult to do considering that she was 5’4” and nearly 50 years old.

“He’s my Dad!” Jack offered helpfully.

“Jack Hotchner, you know that we have a truth policy at this school. I have met your father, and this man is not he.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “He’s my _other_ Dad…”

The monitor looked confused.

“I’m his step-father.” Reid said.

This didn’t appear to clear anything up for the monitor. “Step-father? But I thought that his mother was…”

“I’m Dr. Reid. I should be on the approved pick-up list.”

The monitor looked down at her clipboard and scowled. “You’re not.”

“Well, it’s obvious that the boy knows me and that I’m not a threat…”

“I’m sorry, sir, we don’t operate that way. Our security protocols are in place for the protection of our students. Jack has to stay here until a legal parent arrives.”

“Ma’am, I’m an FBI agent.” Reid reached into his jacket and flashed his ID. “As well as being this child’s legal guardian, so there shouldn’t be an issue.”

The monitor crossed her arms and glared at Reid. “I don’t care if you’re the President of the United States, you’re not taking that child anywhere. Put. Him. Down.”

“Is there a problem here?” Hotch appeared behind Reid, thumbing his phone off as he approached.

“Mr. Hotchner, thank goodness! This man claims to be Jack’s step-father.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Well, he’s not on the approved pick-up list, and, quite frankly I don’t understand why he’s here if you are as well. Did you and your ex-wife get confused over who was to pick up your son today?”

Hotch’s lips thinned and Reid held Jack closer to his chest.

“What is your name?” Hotch asked in a quiet tone that usually meant someone was about to get stomped on.

“Ms. Kovacs, I teach 3rd grade here.”

“Ms. Kovacs, my ex-wife - Jack’s mother - is dead, so there can’t be any confusion over pick-up days. This man,” Hotch touched the small of Reid’s back. “is my husband - Jack’s step-father. He also happens to be an FBI agent and Jack’s legal guardian in my absence.”

Ms. Kovacs looked at Hotch and then at Reid, and then tried in vain to hide her sudden realization and disgust. “He’s not on the list…”

“That’s not really my problem. I filed all of the requisite paperwork with your principal 2 weeks ago.”

“If he’s not on the list…”

“Good afternoon, Special Agent Hotchner, is there a problem?” An older woman walked up and smiled at everyone.

“Principal Ames, it seems that your colleague here as an issue with my husband picking up Jack from school.”

“ _He_ ,” Ms. Kovacs pointed at Reid but didn’t look at him. “is not on the list.”

Principal Ames looked over the clipboard and nodded. “She’s correct. He’s not.” She looked up and extended her hand to Reid. “My apologies Dr. Reid, your husband came in and took care of all the paperwork, but it doesn’t appear to have been updated in our database. I’m truly sorry for the misunderstanding and will rectify this matter personally.”

“That’s quite all right.” Reid murmured and shook her hand while holding Jack with the other.

“And to you as well Special Agent Hotchner.” She shook Hotch’s hand too.

Ms. Kovacs stood with her mouth agape. Hotch turned her way and gave her a stony look. Principal Ames looked as well. “Are there any further issues here that we haven’t resolved to your satisfaction, Belinda?”

The monitor closed her mouth and lifted her chin. “No, Principal Ames. I’m sure that everything will end up as it should.”

The monitor turned on her heel as she gave the men one last look of disapproval. The principal hastily apologized again and followed her leaving Jack and Reid blinking while Hotch seethed.

“That one bears watching.” He growled as they headed back towards their car.

Reid buckled Jack into the back seat as Hotch waited, brooding behind the steering wheel. Reid climbed into the passenger side and gave Hotch a quick glance.

“You really don’t take well to being bullied, do you?”

Hotch looked over at Reid whose lips were quirked with amusement.

“I don’t see the humor in this.”

“Daddy, why doesn’t Ms. Kovacs like Spencer?” Jack called from the back seat.

“Because she’s a small minded person.” 

“She has a tiny brain?!” Jack didn’t seem to find his father’s answer plausible.

“Not exactly…” Hotch started.

“But sort of, yeah.” Reid turned around in his seat to face Jack. “She’s doesn’t like new ideas. She wants the world to be as she sees it, not as it actually is - so, she doesn’t open her mind to knowledge. If you don’t open your mind, you can’t learn anything, and if you don’t learn anything then your brain is like a little marble rolling around in a giant dish.”

“Oh.” Jack nodded as if it all made sense now. “Okay.”

Hotch drove for a few minutes in silence. “I don’t know how you do that.”

“Do what?”

“How you can explain something so that Jack will understand it perfectly, and yet mystify so many adults when you speak.”

“Kids don’t think of themselves as mysterious or complicated at his age. Everything else is.” Reid murmured. “Adults bring all of their insecurities, their prejudices, their filters into every single conversation that they have. It’s amazing that we manage to communicate successfully at all.” 

“I worry…” Hotch hesitated. “I worry that we’re making his life harder…”

“You mean you’re worried that he’ll be marginalized for being part of a gay family.”

Hotch nodded, his face suddenly looked much older than it was. Reid reached out and covered the man’s hand as it rested on the gearshift.

“You’re right to be worried, Aaron. Concern indicates that you are cognizant of the problem, and only by knowing the problem can you begin to address it.” Reid lowered his voice slightly. “We’ll be there for him… to explain it when he has questions. Sure, your choices will effect him, but that doesn’t mean that you should stop making choices altogether. There are even upsides to being bullied…”

Hotch gave him a look of horrified disbelief. He couldn’t imagine that Reid could find a way to justify bullying.

“48% of students report at least one incidence of bullying before they reach high school. Given the shame and reticence to report such activities, one can assume that the actual percentage is much higher.”

“You have such a reassuring way about you.” Hotch said dryly.

“My point is that bullying is a common childhood and adolescent experience. Shockingly common, actually. While the math should in no way indemnify the act, it is - in a way - part of the maturation process. It helps us define our moral sense of self and how we perceive others in our community. Increasing violence and the resulting tragic actions of a small subset of victims aside… if one can survive it, it makes you stronger.”

Hotch looked over at Reid and saw him staring out the window, his features blank.

“Are you saying that you’d choose to relive all of the torture that you went through as a kid if you had to?”

“Maybe,” He said quietly. “I don’t know. What I _do_ know is that it shaped me. I wouldn’t be the same person today if I hadn’t experienced it. I might never have joined the FBI, for example. I would never have met you…”

Hotch continued to drive and didn’t say anything. In the back seat, Jack started to sing to himself.

“I think that I should clarify, for the record,” Reid broke the tension. “that I’ve never really considered you a true bully. An Alpha Male personality with obsessive control issues, certainly… but never a bully.”

Hotch’s brow creased. “I’m not sure how I feel about that statement…”

“Lots of men get into law enforcement to go toe-to-toe with the criminal mind. It’s a battle of wills… the ultimate challenge to one’s ego… it’s a culturally acceptable form of sociopathy because the results generally benefit the safety of the public. But your career, both as a prosecutor and a profiler, has been about standing up for the victims. You protect those who can’t do it themselves. The mental showdown with the UNSUB is just a means to that end for you - not the goal itself. I saw that early on. Yeah, you pushed me around a little - _that_ got my back up - but it was never in pursuit of your own interests.”

Hotch looked over at Reid. He was still looking out the window as if he was talking to himself.

“You’re a good man, Aaron. And your son will become a good man too because of and despite his experiences - whatever they may be. You have to trust that. I know that I do.”

Hotch stopped the car at a red light and looked over a Reid who was still preoccupied with the view from his window. Jack continued singing happily and off-key to himself from the back. Hotch lingered on the sharp profile of Reid’s face, his sunken eyes, the way his body formed odd angles as he leaned back into the passenger seat… it had all become a signifier of home to him long ago. This once frightened, bewildered boy had become the intelligent, insightful man that he now depended on so completely. He listened to his son’s song and watched the face of the man across from him and thought about what a gift it was to want what you had, and to have what you wanted.

“You are remarkable.” He said quietly.

Reid turned and held Hotch’s stare as they waited for the light to change. “So are you. You’re ‘4 letter reaction’ remarkable.”

Hotch smiled. That was great - absolutely, fucking great.

 

END


End file.
